


where people go to die

by astralscrivener



Series: deceit so natural [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura is in her early 20s, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Elaborate Scheming, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fake Prisoner Keith, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lotor doesn't understand Earth at all, Lotor is weird, M/M, Multi, Physical Abuse, Pining Keith (Voltron), Protective Keith (Voltron), Protective Klance, Protective Lance (Voltron), Threats of Violence, Torture, Undercover Lance, Violence, Wild Miscommunication, canon divergence - post-season 2, obsessive lotor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-18 19:43:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 48,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11297529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralscrivener/pseuds/astralscrivener
Summary: the first installment of thedeceit so naturaltrilogy.Lotor mistakenly believes that Lance, acting as a spy for the Galra, has killed Keith, and invites him to return to the Empire with him. Team Voltron uses this to their advantage.“You finally get to return to your real people, Blue Paladin. You no longer have to run around with those…scumbags? Is that a term they use on Earth to describe the lowest filth they can think of?”Recognition seemed to dawn on the Blue Paladin’s face.“Oh! Right—well, I’m…notquitefinished with my mission,” the Paladin said, returning his bayard to his side. He bent down and yanked up the Red Paladin, “I, uh—have to get rid of him myself, you know? Make sure he’s really dead and all that. Put him somewhere where no one will find him and be able to revive him.”





	1. The One in Which Lotor Makes a Mistake (But Doesn't Know It Yet)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [periphvna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/periphvna/gifts).



> My friend and I were making fun of Lotor not understanding Earth things, and back in our AP Lang class, we read this satire about the "Body Ritual of the Nacirema," which talked about the strange things humans do to and for our bodies. My friend remembered one part about how hospitals were places that you went to die.  
> And a fanfic was born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **EDIT 8/2/17**  
>  Hey guys! With the release of Season 3 out in a few days, I should probably explain the timeline of this fic. I didn't earlier, mostly because I didn't plan on writing a trilogy when I first started.
> 
>  **This fanfic takes place post-season 2,** clearly, but also after the events of season 3/4/whenever they reunite with Shiro.  
>  That said, since this was written before season 3 dropped, there are characters in season 3 and 4 I didn't know about (like Lotor's generals) that aren't included, there is characterization (of Lotor especially) that is off, and there are events I will have wrong. 
> 
> In this timeline, basically, they reunite with Shiro and find Matt Holt, and then send Matt Holt in a pod back to Earth and hope for the best. Pidge's dad is still missing, but everyone is back in their normal lions. Lotor is still in charge here, Zarkon still isn't awake, and Haggar is basically Lotor's right hand woman. 
> 
> Okay have fun!

Chapter 1

        The smoke around the battlefield was finally blowing away, allowing Lotor to see the extent of the damage. Destroyed houses, uprooted vegetation, the gutted remains of his own robotic sentries…the damage wasn’t that bad, really. There could have been civilian casualties, of course, but there didn’t seem to be a person in sight.

        _Of course, they could have been vaporized,_ Lotor mused. He wasn’t exactly conservative in how many times he’d fired his ship’s laser cannons, taking great pride in trying to fight off the Paladins on the ground, stranded so far from their lions. When the Black Lion—irritating Paladin, escaped prisoner, Lotor made a mental note to deal with that one later—had seemingly taken down Lotor’s ship, in what should have been a fatal shot, each Paladin on the ground ran to their respective Lion and took off. They were probably celebrating right now, back aboard the Castle of Lions—

        “Keith? Keith!”

        Lotor froze. There should have been no one here. He hadn’t _seen_ anyone. He treaded carefully, with the lightest footfalls he could muster—so light they were _silent and deadly,_ thank you very much—and rounded the side of a decimated skyscraper. He drew up short, gasping— _silently,_ because he was not some sort of _barbarian_ who didn’t know how to be on a battlefield—at the sight before him: the Red Lion and Blue Lion, hulking protectors standing over their Paladins. One of them, the red one, was on the ground, while the blue one stood next to him, gingerly trying to pull him up.

        “Oh, quiznaks, why don’t these planets have hospitals?” the Blue Paladin said. “You need one. I know you’re not one for cleanliness, but—” the Blue Paladin swallowed and forced out a laugh, “—even _you_ would be horrified at how you look right now. Ah…we need to get you out of here.”

        Lotor raised an eyebrow.

        After Voltron rose and destroyed his father, the Prince of the Galra Empire had taken his sweet time gearing up to attack the team from Earth, and in a move Lotor considered brilliant, that not a single person had thought to do before him, he’d done his studying on Earth and its customs. There was one piece in particular that struck him, a report on the inner workings of Nacirema—he was fairly certain that that was where the Galaxy Garrison was, where these Paladins had gotten their space education—that had mentioned hospitals. If this was indeed the place that the Blue Paladin was talking about, then…Lotor had done it.

        He’d succeeded.

        He’d killed the Red Paladin.

        …But then why would the Blue Paladin be so desperate to get a comrade to the hospital, if that was where a person went to die? Unless…

        “I can’t believe this,” Lotor found himself speaking up.

        The Blue Paladin jumped, and in doing so, actually _dropped_ the Red Paladin. He pulled his bayard, and in an instant, Lotor had a massive blaster aimed right at his face. Lotor could forgive him for that, as it seemed to be reflex that the Paladins pulled their bayards when startled.

        “I’ve been so blind! Why couldn’t I see this before? Oh, joyous day!” Lotor said, spreading his arms wide as he approached the Blue Paladin, who merely stuttered in response, at a loss for words. No matter, no matter—he must just have been letting it settle in, that his wretched days running with the Paladins of Voltron were over.

        “Stay back,” the Blue Paladin practically _snarled_ at the prince, angling himself in front of the Red Paladin—a good thing to do, Lotor noted. Claiming a kill as his own, regardless of whether or not it actually was. Good—well, in a relative sense of the word. Deceit was an easy way to climb through the ranks of the Galra Empire. This Paladin—this _spy_ —was thinking on his feet. A good trait to have. A desirable one. He wasn’t stupid.

        “It’s over, Blue Paladin. You can drop your act. I am aware now of what you’re doing,” Lotor said.

        Good actors, faithful ones, always stuck to the script, and Lotor actually _smiled_ when that was what the Blue Paladin did.

        “What-what are you talking about?” the Blue Paladin asked. “You have five seconds. I-I’ll use this.”

        “Why, I’m perfectly aware of why you’ve been running around with Voltron all of this time,” Lotor explained. “You haven’t been loyal to _them_ —you’re loyal to the Galra! You’ve merely been a spy! A good one, at that! You’ve managed to gain their trust, and you’ve finally taken down one of the toughest Paladins around!”

        Lotor decided that he would give over his kill to the Paladin. It was only fitting for someone as stealthy as him.

        The Blue Paladin stared at him for a moment.

        Lotor took this as invitation to keep going.

        “You finally get to return to your real people, Blue Paladin. You no longer have to run around with those…scumbags? Is that a term they use on Earth to describe the lowest filth they can think of?”

        Recognition seemed to dawn on the Blue Paladin’s face.

        “Oh! Right—well, I’m…not _quite_ finished with my mission,” the Paladin said, returning his bayard to his side. He bent down and yanked up the Red Paladin, “I, uh—have to get rid of him myself, you know? Make sure he’s really dead and all that. Put him somewhere where no one will find him and be able to revive him.”

        “Oh! Of course!” Lotor said. “I’ll tell you what, Paladin. As soon as you’ve disposed of him, send a transmission to me, and I will come pick you up—bring the Lion, of course. Then, we can return to the heart of the Empire and discuss our next course of action! Voltron won’t be able to stop us, then! Down two Paladins, while the Galra have insider knowledge? It will be absolutely _brilliant!_ ”

        The Blue Paladin nodded.

        “Yeah, yeah, sure thing. I’ll get back to you real soon.”

        The Blue Paladin then climbed into the Blue Lion, hauling the Red Paladin inside behind him. When the Blue Lion flew away, the Red Lion tailed them, before Lotor could even think to be polite enough to take that one _now!_ No matter—he would see the Blue Paladin again, likely in a few days, and he could apologize.

        Lotor smiled, practically skipping all the way back to his damaged ship. He was already doing more than his father ever could have hoped to accomplish, and he’d managed to do it all in under an hour!

* * *

 

        Lance still couldn’t process his quick exchange with Lotor the entire time it took him to get back to the castle, while Keith was slumped over, unconscious and probably dying, in his lap. How the heck had the guy managed to make himself believe that Lance was a Galran _spy?_ What had Lance said that set him off?

        You know what?

        It didn’t matter.

        All that mattered was that instead of just shooting the guy in the face and getting away with Keith’s safety utterly guaranteed, Lance had actually _listened to him,_ had left himself _vulnerable_ to attack from behind. How did he know that Lotor wouldn’t just be a distraction from an assassin approaching from behind? He was grateful that Shiro hadn’t been there to see that.

        But now…

        Did Lance really need to send in another transmission? If he waited long enough, Lotor would know something was up, and that would likely result with him coming directly to the castle to see if Lance was in trouble, if his supposed cover had been blown.

        _I really need to talk to the team about this one._

        He could do that later. The most pressing issue, at this very moment, was Keith, whose breathing wasn’t sounding that great. Lance didn’t see what Keith had gotten hit with, whether it was blaster fire or stray debris. All he knew was that at one moment, he had his back to Keith, and they were battling, and everything was fine, and when he turned around, Keith was on the ground, completely unresponsive. The others were too caught up in escaping while Lotor was down to notice anything wrong.

        “Hey,” Lance said, testing his transmissions.

        _“Lance? Oh shi—”_

_“Pidge! Language! Lance, are you all right?”_

“Yeah, hi Shiro, _I’m_ fine. Keith…is not. Thanks for ditching us.”

        _“What happened to Keith?”_

        _“Somebody’s worried about their little brother.”_

        _“PIDGE.”_

        “I don’t know,” Lance said. “One minute he was standing up, I turn around, and he’s on the ground. He must have taken some kind of hit, and he’s _not_ looking good. Is Allura listening?”

        _“Affirmative.”_

        “Allura, get a cryopod ready. Also, um…there’s something that we _really_ need to talk about, involving Prince Lotor—”

        _“I thought we killed him,”_ Hunk’s voice cut in. _“A person shouldn’t be able to survive the kind of hit Shiro delivered.”_

        “Well, he’s alive,” Lance said, “and, ah—he thinks I’m a Galran spy, and he says my duties are done. That I can come back to him.”

        _“What?!”_

        Lance cringed as Allura, Hunk, Pidge, Shiro, and even _Coran_ all yelled in his ear at once. “Guys, _I_ don’t even know what’s up with that. Which is why we need to talk. I’m coming up on the castle, I’ll see you all soon.”

        Lance shut off the transmissions before anyone could get in another word, plunging the Blue Lion into…well, not silent, but whatever came closest to it. It was marked by Blue’s mechanical hum, by Lance’s heartbeat, by Keith’s worsening breathing. Lance heard every shift in its rhythm—Keith’s face was resting, getting jostled every time they cut a turn, on Lance’s shoulder.

        “Stay with me here, Keith,” Lance whispered. “Almost there.”

* * *

 

        Keith didn’t remember taking the hit.

        One minute he was standing up, Lance at his back, the Lions preparing to make a break for it and get outta dodge, and the next minute he was on the ground, struggling to breathe, struggling to see, struggling to stay awake. Everything from then had become one huge fog defined by its long stretches of silent darkness, fragmented by hardly-memorable slivers of consciousness. Something about Lotor. Lance’s foot near Keith’s face. Lance’s neck. His lap. Being in Blue, not Red, for the flight back.

        Then complete and utter nothingness.

        Now, his surroundings came to him slowly, as life took hold again. He was vertical, but he wasn’t standing by his own means. Nothing hurt, which meant he was healed, which meant cryopod. Which meant the castle. Which meant Lance had gotten them out of there—both of them. Alive. From what Keith could feel, alive in _one piece._

        Then the cryopod whooshed open.

        Keith expected to hit the floor face-first, which, if he was going to be honest about it, was a thing that happened at an alarming rate—the castle really needed to install some sort of catching device to prevent that from happening. Instead, though, someone had been waiting outside of the pod for him, and caught him in long arms.

        Lance.

        “Hey, buddy, good to see you awake,” Lance said, voice a few octaves too high.

        Keith looked around. Every other Paladin was present, plus Allura and Coran, and they all looked _way_ too cheery.

        Keith looked back at Lance’s face.

        “Am I dead?”

        “Why you asking? Is it because you’re in the arms of an angel?” Lance said, batting his eyes for dramatic effect.

        Keith blinked once and shoved him away—or tried to. Lance still clung to his arm, to help Keith get on his feet after being out for…probably a day or two. Hopefully not any more than that.

        “Why are you all smiling?” Keith asked, and then noticed that Lance was still holding onto him. He thought of mentioning it, and then decided to see how long it would be before Lance noticed what he was doing. Instead, he swept his gaze to the other Paladins, and caught sight of Pidge, who looked rather bored with the entire thing.

        “Except for Pidge?”

        “You’re not gonna like what you’re about to hear,” Pidge said.

        “Why would I—”

        Pidge just gave him a look, flicking her eyes once to the arm that Lance was still latched onto. Keith glared.

        Shiro stepped forward, grabbing Keith’s attention. “We waited to discuss this as long as we could, but you were a while in that pod, and this is the kind of situation that needs to be acted upon.” He paused, letting Keith take in the introduction. Keith raised his eyebrows, looking between Lance and Shiro. “Did something happen that I missed on that planet, Lance?”

        “Prince Lotor,” Lance answered. “Also, you can ask me to let go of your arm whenever you’re ready.”

        Keith wrenched his arm out of Lance’s grasp, playing it off like he’d been too delirious to notice.

        “What’s going on with Lotor? Didn’t Shiro take him down?” he asked.

        Shiro breathed out heavily through his nostrils. “I thought I did. He survived, and while you were down, he had an interesting conversation with Lance. I think Lance should tell you all about it.”

        Lance’s smile vanished. “Are we sure I should be the one telling him this story? Pidge just said he won’t like it, and he has no problem hurting me!”

        “Lance, what happened?” Keith asked, crossing his arms.

        Lance sighed. “Okay, so after you got knocked out or whatever—by the way, I saved your life, you can thank me later— _anyway,_ the battle was wrapping up and I was trying to get you onto our lions when Prince Lotor came up behind me and started talking to me. Now, I know I should’ve shot him and ended things, but then he started talking—out of nowhere, I had nothing to do with this—talking about how I was some Galran spy! A _Galran spy!_ He thought I was trying to take down Voltron from the inside, and then told me that since the Red Paladin was dead—for some reason he thought you were already gone, which, if he’d have kept on talking, might’ve happened, but it didn’t, so anyway—since you were dead, we couldn’t form Voltron. Which, okay, I guess, if you completely ignore Coran and Allura. Which meant my job was done, and I could come _back to the Empire._ And so I was caught off-guard, I was like, _well, okay, let’s see here, I have the craziest space prince in the world telling me something wild I didn’t even know about myself, and oh, yeah, Keith is dying._ So I told him that I had to finish my mission, you know, make sure you were really dead, and then he told me that I had to send him a transmission in a few days for him to come get me and Blue.”

        Keith blinked slowly, trying to take it all in. Lotor said, with utter conviction, that Lance was a Galran spy. _Lance._ He thought Keith was dead. And now he was waiting for a call from Lance to come and get him and bring him back to the heart of the Empire.

        “Which part of this am I not supposed to like?” Keith asked.

        “The part where Lance asked what he should do and _Shiro said,_ ” Hunk started, and dramatically swept his arm toward Shiro.

        “I said this was a great opportunity for us. I figured, if we have an in to the inner workings of the Galra Empire, and we get Lance close enough to Lotor, _we_ can sabotage them. He’ll be a spy—just not in the way Lotor is expecting.”

        “You’re sending Lance into the heart of the Galra Empire, directly to _Prince Lotor?_ Without backup?” he asked slowly.

        Pidge snorted. “Here’s the part you’re not gonna like.”

        “We’ve been debating over who to send with him,” Allura said. “Shiro volunteered to go.”

        Keith whirled on Shiro. “Absolutely not.”

        “I’m the one with the most experience with the Galra,” Shiro said evenly, but Keith cut him off before he could say anything else.

        “The Galra know your face before and after the white streak, and they know your face inside and outside of your Paladin uniform. They _built your arm._ You’re not going with Lance. You’re the head of Voltron—”

        “We can’t form Voltron without Lance. It won’t matter,” Shiro shot back.

        “He does have a point, though,” Hunk said. “They’ll recognize you right away.”

        “Okay,” Shiro said, “then how about Allura? She’s snuck onto Galra ships before, and she can disguise herself—”

        “The castle needs her,” Keith cut in.

        Allura shrugged. She didn’t volunteer. She wasn’t going to fight this one out.

        “I’m going with Lance,” Keith said. “I have Galran DNA, which means I can work their technology. I’ve done it before.”

        “One problem,” Hunk said. “Doesn’t Lotor think you’re dead? How’s he supposed to react when you come onto his ship very much alive and then realize Lance lied to him?”

        Lance raised his hand. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

        Shiro turned toward him. “Who do you think should go with you? Who has the best chance of protecting you in a fight?”

        Lance looked between all of the other Paladins standing before him,  gaze settling on Keith. “I’ll take Keith with me. Lotor won’t recognize him outside of his suit. He’s never dealt with Keith face-to-face, so the only chance he has is voice recognition, but if Keith can fake an accent or drop his tone for a while, we should be good.”

        “What about the bayard?” Pidge asked. “Are we just leaving Keith defenseless?”

        “Lotor won’t expect me to have a bodyguard,” Lance said, voice low, “but a prisoner of war sounds more plausible. Keith comes with me as a prisoner, right? We can act like he’s…he’s Shiro’s brother. That’ll work. One last middle finger to Voltron as I make my dramatic exit. I’m taking my suit—Lotor won’t suspect anything because he thinks the Blue Paladin is harmless to him. I have to bring the Blue Lion. I take Keith’s bayard and I store it in the lion. If Lotor trusts me enough, I have access to it. I can think of some plan to get back to it. Then we always have Keith’s weapon, Keith is with me, and we’re in, no questions asked.”

        “What if he tries to kill Keith?” Hunk asked.

        “He won’t,” Shiro said, voice taking on an oddly cold tone. “If he knows what his people like, Keith will be thrown into the arena as a fighter.”

        “Unless he injures himself,” Pidge pointed out.

        Shiro nodded tersely. “Keith, I’ve been through it all before, it would be easier to let me go and let Lance say he brought the Black Paladin—”

        “No,” Keith and Lance said, at the same time. Lance was the one who continued, “I chose Keith. The last time I checked, he didn’t try and flee a planet without me.”

        Lance stared Shiro down, daring him to question his choice, but Shiro gave in, nodding and turning away. “Let’s get to work on this.”


	2. The One in Which Plans are Made and Put Into Action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to stop finishing chapters at four in the morning, I am a human that NEEDS SLEEP.

Chapter 2

            At most, the Paladins had a few days to plan their course of action before Lotor would begin getting antsy. Pidge and Allura insisted that they got their job done and out of the way, leaving enough time to fix any potential bugs. That was how Lance and Keith found themselves in the main part of the castle with the rest of the team. They stood over Pidge as she tinkered with some kind of device—wireless for the most part.

            “What’s this about?” Lance asked.

            “Communications,” Allura answered, smiling as Pidge stood up to assess her work. “It occurred to us that Keith won’t be able to have his armor, and there’s a strong chance that Lance will no longer be wearing his, either. Of course, we’ll still need to communicate with the both of you from a distance away, so Pidge has constructed these.”

            Pidge held up whatever it was that she’d been working on. “I’ve created our own network of signals that should be able to break through whatever signals the Galra are using. There are earpieces for both of you, so you can hear us whenever we talk to you, and these cufflinks have built-in microphones that you can turn on or off. With the network, the Galra shouldn’t be able to pick you up, but unfortunately, we can’t pick them up either.”

            “A private, anti-interference channel. Nice work, Pidge,” Lance said, as Pidge handed him one of the devices.

            Keith turned his own over in his hands. “This is great and all, but where am I supposed to stash this? Don’t prisoners wear those weird suits? How is this supposed to hold up if I get sent into the arena?”

            Shiro’s gaze became unfocused as he listened to Keith’s questions. Everyone else went silent, turning toward Shiro—he was the one who’d been in Galra captivity.

            “I’m still not comfortable with sending Keith,” Shiro started, “but, Lance, if you can manage to get to Keith after he’s been taken and slip him his communicator, it could work. He can slide the cuff right under his suit, and his hair should cover the earpiece if he styles it right. No one will notice. He just has to be careful not to damage it in the arena. And trust me—it’s a lot more likely than not he’ll be sent to the arena.”

            “He _could_ fake an injury,” Pidge said, more of a reminder to Keith than anything. “Just don’t make it a terrible one. Or just be a shitty fighter, and they’ll get so sick of seeing you that they won’t ever put you back in.”

            “I’ll figure something out,” Keith said.

            “Okay. While you do that, can you and Lance just do me a favor and move to different parts of the castle and try to communicate? Everyone should hear and be able to speak to everyone,” Pidge said, putting on an earpiece of her own.

            Keith and Lance obeyed; while Lance went down one hallway, Keith went the other way, through the twisting corridors of the castle, pale light guiding him. His conversation with Shiro and Pidge refused to leave him alone. Shiro was too sure that Keith would be sent into the arena—and then what? Shiro had injured Matt Holt and gotten Matt sent to the labor camps so he wouldn’t have to fight, but that was different. Keith was there for _Lance._ Which meant he couldn’t leave.

            He’d have to fight, and if he wanted to stay in the Galra’s good graces long enough, he’d have to fight _well._

            _Stop. You can think about this later._

            Keith put the earpiece into his ear and clasped the cuff over his wrist, turning on the microphone feature as he did.

            “Hello?” Keith tried.

            _“Well, hello there,”_ Lance’s voice came through, strangely low.

            Keith rolled his eyes. On one of the other ends, Pidge groaned audibly.

            _“Excuse me, are none of you being charmed right now?”_ Lance asked.

            _“They work. Shut them off and return them to me. We can’t have them breaking before you get on Lotor’s ship,”_ Pidge cut in.

            “Roger,” Keith said.

            He took out the earpiece and looked down at it. Would this really go unnoticed by the Galra? The Blade of Marmora were all Galrans, and they’d detected a knife on him without even touching him. Was it because it was a Galra knife? Did their suits detect it? Or was it all them?

            And how often would he even get the chance to communicate back and forth with Lance and the ship?

            _This plan is ridiculous._

            And yet, he’d _volunteered_ to be the one to go through with it.

* * *

 

            Keith stared at all of the belongings laid out across his bed. He was ditching the red jacket—it was too flashy, and a Galran might have mistaken it for a mark of the Red Paladin, which, though not technically _wrong,_ would definitely put Lance in hot water almost immediately. He wouldn’t bring his knife, either, as much as it pained him. He would be on a Galra ship, and there would be plenty of them. He didn’t need to bring on an extra and risk detection.

            His bayard was the only thing worth taking, and even then, it would stay with the Blue Lion.

            Keith sighed down at the outfit he was going to wear when Lance dragged him aboard Lotor’s ship. One of Keith’s rattier t-shirts, damaged in a particularly rough training session. A pair of Lance’s jeans, a size too big for Keith. A dirty pair of Coran’s boots. And that was it. He wouldn’t even get a jacket. As a result, he wouldn’t get his cuff and the earpiece until Lance could swing by whatever cell Keith was in—if he ever got that chance.

            Someone knocked at Keith’s door.

            “Come in,” Keith called, and the door opened. Shiro walked in apprehensively, letting the door slide shut behind him. He leaned against the wall, and for a moment said nothing, just stared. Assessing.

            “I’m fully healed from whatever hit I took, if that’s what you’re here about. I’m fine,” Keith said, looking away from Shiro and returning his gaze to his bed.

            “That’s not what I’m here for,” Shiro said. “I want to know why you insist on going through with this.”

            _Oh, for fuck_ _’s sake._

            “Shiro, you know why,” Keith muttered.

            “I don’t, really. Do you need to prove yourself, or—”

            “I don’t want to talk about this.”

            Keith picked up the Galra blade and turned it over in his hands. In its reflection, he could see Shiro against the wall behind him, eyebrows raised. Keith scowled and tossed the knife onto his red jacket, and then began to fold up the jacket around it. Maybe, if he kept on like this, Shiro would just _leave him alone_ and let him have some peace before he took off with Lance tomorrow morning. There was already a lot going on in his head—he didn’t need brotherly advice to make things worse.

            “Keith, bottling things up doesn’t help,” Shiro pointed out. He pushed off of the wall and came up behind Keith, resting a hand on his shoulder. Keith crossed his arms and averted his eyes toward the floor, which he decided was particularly interesting to look at today.

            “It’s not _bottled,_ Shiro. I’ve told you before. Think.”

            Silence fell over them. Keith felt Shiro’s arm go just the slightest bit slack on his shoulder, and took the opportunity to slide out from his grasp. Keith watched Shiro, watched the realization dawn on his face. Shiro seemed to zone out a moment, a soft, long-drawn “oh” breaking up the silence in the room.

            “Remember when Allura gave herself up to the Galra to get you out?” Keith asked.

            “…Yep…,” Shiro responded.

            “Do you see now?” Keith drew out his words, staring intently at Shiro.

            Shiro dragged a hand down his face. “ _Keith,_ just because Allura and I do something like that doesn’t make it _smart to do._ ”

            “It’s too late now,” Keith said. “We’ve made our decisions and the plan is in place. I’m going with Lance. I’ll keep him safe.”

            “You’re going to be in a cell or in the arena, I don’t see how you’re going to be able to keep him safe from there. If anything, it sounds like _Lance_ will be keeping _you_ safe,” Shiro said.

            Keith smiled thinly. “I don’t plan on being in that cell for long.”

            “Keith, whatever you’re thinking—”

            “Don’t worry, Shiro, I’ve got everything under control.”

            “You thought that when you went against the Blade of Marmora, too,” Shiro pointed out, as Keith turned toward the door. Keith drew up short, but still wouldn’t turn around to face him.

            “I mean it this time. There’s a lot more riding on this.”

* * *

 

            Blue’s hangar was too crowded.

            Lance paced back and forth in front of his lion as he waited on Keith to arrive. Keith had seemed…well, just a little bit _out of it_ when he’d woken up. Shiro had tried to help him, but Keith had brushed him off and gone about his business. No one else dared to try and step in. Keith was a loner by nature, and if he wanted space, then Lance would give him space.

            “There you are,” Allura said.

            Lance looked up, as did all of the other Paladins gathered with them, as Keith came hurrying into Blue’s hangar, clutching his bayard. He thrust it toward Lance, who took it gingerly, as though it might burn him or react violently to being in his hands. Keith either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He spun on his heel and faced everyone else who’d come to see them off.

            “Only send a transmission to Lotor once you’re far enough away from the castle,” Allura instructed. “If he sees the ship, believing two Paladins are gone, there’s a strong chance he’ll seize the opportunity to attack.”

            “Got it,” Lance said.

            Keith just nodded.

            “As soon as you’re secure, you need to try communicating with us, just so we know you’re all right and you’re in position,” Pidge added. “If your covers are blown or you find yourselves compromised, I need communication as soon as possible so we can get to work on staging a rescue.”

            “We’ll be fine,” Keith cut in.

            “Yeah! No one can resist my charm! Not even weird Galra princes!” Lance said.

            He side-eyed Keith. “Or half-Galra Paladins.”

            “…Right,” Keith said, rolling his eyes and boarding Blue without so much as a glance back. Lance looked between Keith and the others, raised a hand in good-bye, and then dashed after Keith into the Blue Lion. Blue shut her mouth behind him.

            Keith was already in the cockpit when Lance got there. He’d busied himself studying the plan, which at the moment was saved to Blue’s memory, and would be erased before they docked in Lotor’s ship’s hangar.

            “I thought you knew the plan,” Lance commented, looking over Keith’s shoulder.

            Keith closed down the screen he’d been looking at without so much as a glance up. “I do. I’m just…just double-checking.”

            “Dude, are you okay?” Lance asked. “I’m serious. We can call this off and tell Shiro that we shouldn’t go through with this. We can call it a fluke and go back to fighting Lotor.”

            Keith shook his head. “I’m _fine._ We’ve prepared for this for days. We’ve been given a rare opportunity and it’d be stupid not to take it.”

            Lance held his hands up defensively. “Just checking in. You ready to leave, then?”

            “As I’ll ever be.”

            Lance settled into the pilot’s chair, taking the time to stash Keith’s bayard with the rest of their secret supply, while Keith sat down on the floor behind the chair. Blue thrummed with nervous energy, and when the group took off, Blue rocketed forward, so hard that Keith was thrown away from the chair and against the floor. His bayard, along with Lance’s and Lance’s Paladin uniform, skittered along the floor.

            “Sorry!” Lance called, trying to steady Blue.

            Keith rubbed his forehead. “Gee. Thanks.”

            “Can you just shove those back where they were? As soon as we’re far enough from the castle, I’m gonna try and send a transmission to…to Lotor. That sounds _so_ weird to say.”

            “Start getting used to it, _Jeremy,_ ” Keith replied, kicking Lance’s clothes back into a corner, and then tossing his own bayard on top.

            “Har-dee-har. Good one, _Ryou_.”

            At Hunk’s suggestion, Keith and Lance had chosen fake names to go undercover with. Even if Lotor hadn’t been paying close attention to the Paladins during their battles, there was a chance other Galra officers—officers who’d managed to get out alive— _had_ paid attention, and knew the names Lance and Keith, even if they didn’t know which Paladin they belonged to. Lance had chosen the name Jeremy, after some guy one of his cousins was dating. Keith had taken the name Ryou, after one of Shiro’s great uncles.

            “How long do you think it’ll be before we can get a transmission out?” Keith asked, finally reclaiming his spot behind Lance’s chair.

            “Ten more minutes, maybe?” Lance answered.

            Keith groaned.

            “Shut your quiznak, Keith. You didn’t have to come,” Lance said.

            “You didn’t have to choose me to come with you,” Keith retaliated. “You had a choice. No, actually, you didn’t have a choice, you asked to be given a choice. And then used it to choose me. Stop complaining that I’m complaining.”

            “Stop complaining that I’m complaining that you’re complaining!”

            “We are _not_ doing this.”

            Lance made an indignant noise in the back of his throat, but didn’t deign to say anything else. The ride drifted into silence, broken up only by the sounds Blue made as Lance piloted. Finally, there came a point where Lance relented, and Blue slowed. The Blue Paladin leaned back in his seat, taking in deep breaths. Keith sat up and peered around the side of the pilot’s seat. Lance’s eyes were shut.

            “Lance?”

            Lance opened them slowly, almost painfully. “Are you ready for this, Keith?”

            “I—yeah, are you?”

            “Yeah. Then, uh…get into position, I guess.”

            Keith rose slowly while Lance bent down to get at the other odds and ends deemed  necessary for this mission. The first thing he thrust at Keith was a cloth, and he instructed Keith to tie it around his mouth. Keith obliged without question, while Lance continued to dig around, until he produced handcuffs.

            “Where did you even get those?” Keith asked, tugging the cloth away from his mouth to get the question out.

            “I think Shiro or Allura swiped them from an officer in one of our last battles. Dunno, really. Coran gave them to me,” Lance answered. “Now put the cloth back on and stop talking. And make it look like I scare you, or something. Just be believable.”

            Lance pulled Keith’s arms behind his back and cuffed him at the wrists. Keith winced—the cuffs were a little bit tighter than he’d imagined.

            “Sorry,” Lance said, grimacing himself. Keith just shook his head at him. _Let_ _’s just get this over with._

            Keith hovered at Lance’s side as Lance got to work punching in different things on Blue’s dashboard, until the screen suddenly activated, trying to establish a connection to Prince Lotor’s ship. In the few seconds they had between making the call and Lotor answering, Lance and Keith scrambled to get into place. Keith stood at Lance’s side, barely a step in front of him, while Lance took up a steely grip on Keith’s right arm. While Lance straightened his back and raised his chin, Keith dipped his chin and cast his narrowed eyes toward the ground.

            They were just in time.

            _“Aha! The Blue Paladin!”_

            Lotor’s voice filled Blue, so startlingly that Blue shuddered. Lance played off the stumble as though it were expected, while Keith pretended to try and make a break for it.

            _“Something is off,”_ Lotor said, stepping closer to his own screen, giving Lance and Keith a full view of one purple eye, as Keith stopped struggling. _“Where is your suit? And who have you brought with you?”_

            “The suit has no more use to me,” Lance said. “It reeks of Voltron.”

            _“Understandable. Your new ensemble fits quite well, I must say,”_ Lotor said.

            Lance suppressed a shudder.

            “Thank you,” he replied, fighting to keep a steady voice. “And this here is a prisoner I took from the Castle of Lions—a prisoner that I think could be beneficial to us. He has been living on board the castleship for some time now. He is a relative of the Black Paladin.”

            Lotor pressed up even closer to whatever he was using for a camera. _“Interesting. Prisoner! State your full name and supposed relation to the Black Paladin.”_

            Lance tugged down the cloth around Keith’s mouth. Keith pretended to snap at Lance, trying to get away once again. Lance yanked him back in his own direction, enough where Keith stumbled. The surprise on his face was genuine—he didn’t know Lance was that strong.

            “Go on,” Lance snapped back at him.

            “I’m not telling you anything,” Keith spat. “Let me go.”

            Lance socked him in the face. “You want to try that again?”

            Keith glared a very real glare that told Lance he would be dealing with him later.

            “Ryou,” he muttered.

            “I believe His Royal Highness asked for a _full_ name _and_ relation to the Black Paladin,” Lance said. “Unless, of course…” Lance raised his fist again.

            “Try me,” Keith responded.

            He really didn’t think Lance would do it again, but he did. So with a bruising cheek and ego, Keith ground out, “My name is Ryou Takashi, and I’m the Black Paladin’s brother.”

            He cast his gaze to the ground.

            _“Was that so hard, now, Ryou?”_ Lotor mocked from his end of the transmission. _“Thank you, Blue Paladin. Now, I never caught_ your _name_ _…?”_

            “Jeremy Ortega,” Lance answered. “And, please, Your Highness—”

            _“Oh, just_ Lotor _is fine._ _”_

            Keith suppressed a groan while Lance kicked him, out of Lotor’s view.

            “—Never address me as the _Blue Paladin_ again. It’s just…revolting.”

            _“Oh! I see! Completely understandable, Jeremy. Well. I imagine you’re sending me this transmission because you’re ready for my arrival,”_ Lotor said.

            “That would be correct,” Lance said.

            Lotor smiled, the kind of smile that only reminded Lance of the Joker.

            _“Fantastic! I’ll be there in less than half a varga! Sit tight!”_

            Lotor’s transmission then cut out. Lance and Keith stood still, stood silent, for a full minute before they decided it was safe to move again, that there would be no surprise transmission.

            “What the hell was that for?” Keith asked.

            “The punch?” Lance asked. “Sorry, dude. I had to make it believable. The first one was totally me not thinking, but that second one, you were warned.”

            “I had to make it believable,” Keith deadpanned.

            “Well then, there you go,” Lance said. “Let me get you out of those cuffs while we still have time.”

            “Speaking of time,” Keith said, as Lance undid the cuffs around his wrists, “did you notice that he used Altean time?”

            “He’s probably half-Galran, half-Altean. I mean, you did see his ears, right? And the fact that his eyes aren’t yellow?” Lance said. “He’s like you, but worse.”

            “That just makes me feel so much better,” Keith retorted.

            Lance opened his mouth to make another snarky reply when the Blue Lion jolted. Both Paladins rushed to the window, only to see a large Galra ship and a tractor beam.

            “I didn’t think this was what he had in mind when he said less than half a varga,” Lance muttered, staring wide-eyed.

            “Lance! Focus! The cuffs!” Keith whisper-shouted, looking around and hoping that there was no way Lotor could see what was going on.

            Lance nodded with a quick, “Right, right,” and got to work putting the cuffs back on Keith’s wrists, snatching away that sweet moment of freedom where his wrists and hands and arms could all just _breathe._ When Keith jerked his chin down, toward the cloth that had slipped around his neck, Lance hesitated.

            “A-Are you sure?”

            “Yes, just put it on before someone sees us.”

            “Okay, okay, I just—Keith…thanks. For agreeing to this. Just know that this is…gonna be hard on me too.”

            Keith didn’t answer, just swallowed back the small bit of bile trying to climb up his throat and gave Lance a nod and tight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

            This plan was ridiculous, and it was only dawning on the both of them now that they might’ve been in over their heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will the next chapter come tomorrow or next year? Who knows!


	3. The One in Which Lance and Keith Get Situated On Lotor's Ship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, this one isn't going up at four in the morning!

Chapter 3

            Lotor paced the length of the empty hangar as he waited for the tractor beam to pull in the Blue Lion. Here, he was already accomplishing more than his father ever had. Not only had he killed the Red Paladin, but he’d gotten the Blue Paladin to admit he was a spy for the Empire, and now Voltron was without an arm and a leg! He’d even gotten the Blue Lion itself! Well, sure, his father had taken several of the Lions into his own possession before, but never permanently. They’d never been handed over without much of a fuss.

            Perhaps the best part was the knowledge that the rest of that wretched Team Voltron would have to come straight to him. Once they realized that the spy had taken the Black Paladin’s brother, they would have no choice but to come and rescue him! Surely they wouldn’t leave one of their own to the Empire, if they truly hated the Empire as much as they said.

            The air in the room shifted then, as the rumble of an engine filled Lotor’s ears. The prince moved out of the way as the Blue Lion slowly entered the hangar. His smile only widened when the engines lowered themselves to a dull hum, and the jaw of the Blue Lion lowered to the ground. The mouth opened with a whoosh, and Lotor forced himself to be still and calm and not jump around giddily. Officers and advisers on board the ship had been telling him to keep it together, to be regal even in the face of success. This was not a war they’d won, but merely a skirmish. A surprising skirmish, one that could have massive repercussions later on, but for now, just a skirmish.

            In the moment before Jeremy Ortega and his prisoner exited the Blue Lion, Lotor straightened his back, schooled his face into mild neutrality, and clasped his hands behind his back. When he caught sight of Jeremy dragging the prisoner along, he allowed himself to smile a little wider. Jeremy, meanwhile, kept a stoic face, eyes hard as he approached. Jeremy was nearly there when the prisoner stumbled, and Jeremy yanked him roughly along.

            “Your Highness,” Jeremy said when he stopped in front of Lotor, and punctuated his greeting with as much of a bow as he could manage while holding onto the prisoner. The prisoner didn’t bother with bowing—he merely stared daggers in Lotor’s direction, practically challenging him to do something about his insubordination.

            “Jeremy Ortega, the pleasure is all _mine,_ ” Lotor said.

            The prisoner rolled his eyes and looked off toward the distance, as though this whole thing were boring him.

            “My apologies for his behavior,” Jeremy said, ending his sentence with a disgusted click of his tongue.

            “No need. You are not the one at fault. Without you, he wouldn’t be here at all. I’m just surprised he has the gall to do these things when he’s outnumbered and has no way of defending himself,” Lotor said, eying the bruises on Ryou’s face, which were only getting darker. He reached out and tugged down the cloth around Ryou’s mouth. “Do you think you’re invincible?”

            “No, but I’m pretty close,” Ryou snapped.

            Lotor shook his head with a _tsk._ What a shame. Lotor now possessed the unfortunate task of destroying that temper. He would not have prisoners causing riots in the cell block, and he _certainly_ wouldn’t have that happening because of a relative of the Black Paladin, who’d already caused enough trouble to the Empire.

            “Guards,” Lotor called, “show our new prisoner to his cell in solitary. And do make sure to quell his temper before _I_ have to.”

            Lotor leveled his face with Ryou’s. “I will be _much_ less merciful than any of these guards will be.”

            Ryou grit his teeth, but made no comment in retaliation as Jeremy relinquished him to the two guards that had come.

            Lotor observed Jeremy as he watched the guards take Ryou away, disappearing down one corridor, with Ryou shouting obscenities the whole way, only stopping when he received a punch to the gut. Jeremy seemed astonished, his remarkably blue eyes wide. Lotor imagined that Jeremy was thinking something along the lines of _how dare he speak that way to a prince! And one as dashing as Lotor, no less!_

            “Tell me,” Lotor said, coming to stand next to Jeremy, “what was he like on board the Castle of Lions? Was he always this brash?”

            “All the time,” Jeremy answered.

            Lotor crinkled his nose. “Disgraceful. And the Paladins of Voltron just allowed it to happen?”

            “We had to. The Black Paladin wouldn’t let us do anything to him in retaliation, just because Ryou was his brother,” Jeremy said.

            Lotor placed a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “You’ll be glad to know that that will not be the case here, Jeremy. Unlike in that band of ragamuffins, we take pride in order. Everyone on a Galra ship, willingly or not, will be in line. Ryou will come to his senses soon enough. But no more on that ungrateful…what’s the word that the people on Earth use? Scumrag?”

            “Close enough,” Jeremy said, still staring down the now-empty corridor.

            “No more on that scumrag. Come with me, Jeremy. Tonight, there will be a celebration in your honor, for assisting in bringing Voltron to its knees. But for now, allow me to give you a tour of the ship. After all, I’m sure you’ll need to learn your way around if you’re going to be my second-in-command,” Lotor said, and looped his arm in Jeremy’s.

            Jeremy practically choked.

            “Your what?”

            Lotor grinned. “Second-in-command! Your insider knowledge of Voltron will be quite handy, and honestly, I don’t really see a better option for the job. The people on board this ship are…well, not the best, or the wisest, or the most observant. Nothing like me. But _you?_ You could be our greatest asset of all time.”

            Jeremy allowed himself a tentative smile—tentative, of course, because he must not have been used to this treatment before. The Red Paladin had always been the Black Paladin’s right hand—literally and figuratively, from what Lotor had observed in their battles. Now, it was the former Blue Paladin’s time to shine.

            For the Prince of the Galra Empire himself, no less!

            He was starstruck—the dazed look on Jeremy’s face made Lotor certain of it.

* * *

 

            The guards allowed Keith to change into the prison uniform privately, which was a mercy he honestly didn’t expect. He went as fast as he could, in the small changing room they’d allowed him. He tossed aside his torn-up shirt, and Lance’s dirty jeans, and Coran’s worn-out boots. They’d probably be destroyed, but it didn’t really matter—Keith had no more use for them. When he emerged from the changing room, the guards took him by the arms, and began dragging him along just as roughly as they did before.

            Keith had run out of remarks, and didn’t feel like trying to brainstorm any new ones. For now, he mustered the darkest, most broody look he could manage, as though he would rip the guards’ heads off at the first opportunity, which…wasn’t really wrong. So it wasn’t really hard to do.

            “In you go,” one guard said at some point, breaking up the tense silence that had come between the trio. This guard opened the door, while the other one shoved Keith inside. The door slid shut and locked with a muffled beep from the outside, leaving Keith in near-total darkness, save for the dim purple glow of two wall lights at the back of the cell.

            The place was more spacious than Keith expected, a little ten-by-ten-by-ten cube. In the middle of the room sat a raised metal slab, with a thin blanket on top of it. If this was going to be his home for however long this lasted, then at least he had room to pace and maybe run in circles,  if he really felt the need.

            The only thing the room lacked was a place to hide things. The blanket could hide small items, if he folded it up. Maybe he could put things on the floor behind the slab, out of sight of anyone entering the room. But for the most part, anything he needed to hide, he’d need to figure out how to hide on his person, which was difficult in a skin-tight suit with no pockets.

            The thought made Keith stop. He didn’t have his communicator. Lance never gave it to him, because they had no idea Keith would have been given the privacy of changing on his own. And now, Lance didn’t know where Keith’s cell was, because the guards had taken him here, presumably while Lotor tugged Lance off somewhere else.

            _The sooner you get out of here, the sooner you find Lance._

            Keith started toward the door, expecting to find some sort of print-pad or keypad next to it, but the wall came up empty. The door, too, was bare, just a solid slab of dark gray staring him in the face. Keith backed away from the door slowly, ignoring the way his heart started pounding a little faster. This was _normal._ He didn’t even know why he expected there to be such things on the inside of a cell. Especially not one in solitary confinement. After all, what did it matter if a prisoner died in captivity?

            He would just need to think of another way out.

* * *

 

            “The Blue Lion’s been motionless for over an hour,” Shiro remarked, staring at the one blinking dot on the universe map that Allura had pulled up, which filled the bridge. “Pidge, have we got _any_ communications coming in?”

            “No,” Pidge said, mild surprise edging her voice.

            “Do you think they remembered to turn their microphones on?” Hunk asked.

            “I’ve reminded them twice already, and still, I’ve got nothing coming in,” Pidge said. “I don’t think they’ve put them on yet.”

            Pidge adjusted her headset and pursed her lips, trying to see if she could pick up on even a single noise coming through. But there was nothing. Everyone else knew, as soon as she raised her eyes to them, that she was just getting silence.

            “I do hope they’re all right,” Coran muttered.

            Shiro sighed. “Let’s just give them some time, I guess. They’re Paladins of Voltron. They can handle this.”

            “It’s also _Lance_ and _Keith_ ,” Hunk piped up.

            Pidge snorted before she could stop herself. “I don’t think we need to worry about that, Hunk.”

            Hunk knitted his eyebrows in confusion and shot glances at Allura and Coran. Coran seemed just as lost as he did, but Allura smiled knowingly down at the floor.

            “Did I miss something?” Hunk asked.

            Pidge looked between Shiro and Allura. “So, who wants to tell them?”

* * *

 

            The buildup of sweat in his arm was starting to bother Lance. He constantly found himself looking down at the place where Lotor had his arm looped, wishing that the guy would just let go and let him have some space. Lotor was completely oblivious, pulling Lance along without a care in the world as he showed Lance around. Galra training decks. Various control rooms. Three dining rooms and counting. Lotor had mentioned some sort of ballroom, which struck Lance as strange. The Galra did not seem like the type to host _parties._

            “This is one of my favorite rooms,” Lotor said, stopping in front of a set of double doors. Two guards stood stationed outside of the doors, eying Lance and Lotor, but saying nothing.

            Lotor pressed his hand down on one of the Galran print-pads, and the doors opened, sliding into the wall and allowing Lance a view of the room—if it could be called that at all. Lance took in the huge stadium, the seats that went so far back that they vanished into shadow, the columns jutting into the air and arching like claws at the top, and the dirty floor that constituted the arena.

            “This is the arena,” Lotor said, breathing in deeply. Lance scrunched his nose—all he could smell was the faint traces of whatever the Galran version of sweat was, and a little bit of blood.

            “Uh, impressive,” Lance said.

            Impressive, definitely. Other words Lance would use to describe the place were creepy, terrifying, huge, and no place for a Paladin. He shoved down his growing discomfort and allowed Lotor to pull him to a flight of stairs at the edge of the arena.

            “Up here is where my father would sit, if he wasn’t currently out of commission,” Lotor said. “It’s also where the rest of the royals sit, some of the high-ranking officers, and of course, the prince’s second-in-command.”

            Lotor continued to pull on Lance’s arm, and the thought crossed Lance’s mind to pull back, hard enough where maybe Lotor would fall down the stairs. Maybe get an injury.

            _You have a mission. If you do that, half the Empire will be looking to kill you._

            Lotor finally let go of him when they reached the top of the stairs, just so he could jog a few paces ahead of Lance and sweep his arms out. “Welcome to the best seat in the house.”

            Lance stepped onto the dais slowly. It was probably the highest point in the arena, but not by very much. There were no seats here—scratch that, there was one. One fitting for an emperor, or a regent prince. Lotor sat down in the seat and relaxed into it, shutting his eyes, probably imaging the arena when it was full.

            “W-What are you doing?” Lance asked, slowly dropping his hand into his pocket, fingers locking around his earpiece. Keith’s earpiece brushed against his hand—Lance needed to figure out where the heck they’d put him, and then needed to find a way to slip this to him.

            “Shh,” Lotor said.

            Lance closed his fist around the earpiece, and with a quick motion, brought it up and shoved it into his ear, adjusting it so that the sound was on.

            One piece down, one to go.

            Lance dropped his hand back into his pocket to get the cuff, and froze when Lotor started talking again.

            “You know, it isn’t always the prisoners that fight,” Lotor said. “Sometimes, _I_ come here for my own moment of glory.”

            His eyes were still shut. Lance grabbed the cuff and shoved his sleeve up a few inches.

            “I never got the chance to fight the Black Paladin when he was the champion. My father had me out on other missions.”

            Lance clasped the cuff around his wrist and tugged the sleeve back down, but he left the microphone off. Now wasn’t the time or place to try and contact the team, even if they were trying to contact him.

            “But now,” Lotor said, eyes opening as he met Lance’s gaze, “we at least have the Black Paladin’s brother, which is good enough for me. Tell me, did he ever spend time training with the other Paladins? He must have, right?”

            “No,” Lance lied. “We never considered it. The Black Paladin wanted to keep him away from battle, to keep him safe. They never began considering training him until the Red Paladin passed on, because they needed a replacement.”

            “Unfortunate,” Lotor said, stroking his chin as he looked down. “Perhaps we should order some training for him. Or perhaps we won’t. What do you think, Jeremy?”

            Lance’s eyebrows shot up.

            He was being asked for an opinion on this?

            “I’m not sure,” Lance said.

            On the one hand, giving Keith training would give Lance a greater chance of seeing him and slipping him the communicator, and it would give Keith a way to get out any excess energy he might’ve had. On the other hand, it would be so easy for Keith to go too hard in training and show Lotor exactly what he was made of, and give the prince an advantage in whatever fight was being planned. Unless Keith faked his way through training, and came off as completely incompetent.

            “A-Actually,” Lance said, before Lotor could make a decision on his own, “I think we should train him. An unfair fight is no fun to watch.”

            “You’re completely correct!” Lotor said, standing up from his chair. “And speaking of _fun to watch,_ I find it strange that we’ve received no contact from the Castle of Lions.”

            “Well, they didn’t know I was leaving,” Lance said. “I had to be covert.”

            “Mmm,” Lotor said, shaking his head. “You see, there are some risks you must take. Even if you told them, they cannot form that robotic monstrosity. They have no way to retaliate. I think we should send them a transmission. It will be most fun to watch their reactions to learning one of their own has betrayed them.”

* * *

 

            The air duct over his bed was just mocking him at this point.

            Keith was a few inches too short, even when jumping precariously, as high as he could, to reach the grate. This was his only way out of here, if he couldn’t use the door. He made another attempt at swiping at the air duct, but at that moment, he heard the door to his cell begin to open. Distracted, his foot slipped, and he barely managed to catch himself before he could bust his ass or break his neck.

            He sat up on the edge of the bed just as two figures entered the room—one of them swaggering, the other one trailing behind.

            “Ryou Takashi,” Lotor said.

            “Asswipe,” Keith replied, narrowing his eyes. “What do you want with me now? I’ve barely gotten used to my new home.”

            “It would do you well to tone down the attitude,” Lotor said, “unless you want to suffer even more than you already are and will soon.”

            Lotor snapped his fingers, and the other figure strode forward. Lance. With Lotor at his back, Lance allowed himself a grim smile at Keith. Keith stared, all too aware of Lotor’s eyes still on _him._ Lance came to his side, and yanked Keith off the bed, so hard that Keith stumbled. Lance caught him by the shirt collar and pulled him up. Keith tried to swing at Lance, but Lance caught both of his arms by the wrist and pinned them behind his back.

            “You could give him another bruise,” Lotor called, crossing his arms and tilting his head. “I think Team Voltron would appreciate that.”

            Keith grit his teeth. “What’s going on?”

            “I’ve decided that it’s been far too lonely without a communication from the Castle of Lions. Jeremy has revealed that they don’t even know you’re gone. How nice, to not be under pressure to get a loved one back.”

            Behind Keith, Lance rolled up a sleeve, and a moment later, he was met with the cool sensation of something metal coming down on his wrist. Lightweight. It must have been the communicator cuff.

            His sleeve rolled back down, over the cuff, and then came the handcuffs Keith had been expecting.

            The cuffs slid right over the portion of his sleeve hiding the communicator.

            “I’ve decided that they’ve had enough tranquility,” Lotor went on. “It’s time to send your precious family member and his friends a message. Hand over the rest of the lions, or else something _terrible_ may happen to you.”

            “You could kill me,” Keith suggested, glaring.

            “Nonsense,” Lotor replied. “A dead prisoner is a useless one, if I haven’t yet gotten what I want.”

            Keith’s face softened.

            Lance gripped his arm just a little tighter.

            “Come along now,” Lotor said, voice much cheerier, as if he hadn’t just made a threat. “Let us send that message to Voltron, and see what they have to say about it.”

            Lotor strode out ahead of Lance and Keith, expecting them to follow. Lance hesitated, and glanced around the room before he dug around in his pocket and shoved something in Keith’s ear.

            The earpiece.

            “How are you holding up?” Lance whispered, starting to shove Keith forward. They couldn’t lag too far behind.

            “I’m okay,” Keith whispered back. “Focus on the mission. If we don’t get information on the Empire, this will be for nothing.”

            Lance nodded, and then stared straight ahead, with a gaze like steel. Keith set his jaw and acted like he was having none of this, and stumbled along with Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will go up after several caffeine-fueled writing sessions and at least one Lotor roast session with my friends.


	4. The One in Which Things are Already Off to a Bad Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "E I L E E N" -my friend upon seeing one quote from my writing progress on this chapter

Chapter 4

            Just one communication. Just one. Then she could rest easy, knowing her invention had worked and that Lance and Keith were going to be okay. The not knowing was the worst part of it. It ate at Pidge every time she sent one out and got nothing in return. It ate at Pidge every time she looked at the others—Shiro and Allura, Hunk and Coran, and they all stared, and she had to shake her head in silent defeat.

            If this didn’t work, it would be her fault. It would be her fault that they let Lance and Keith go into a Galra ship with the prince of the entire Empire, with no way to let the castle know what was going on. Maybe she should’ve spent some more time on it. Maybe she should’ve had Lance and Keith test them from inside their lions. Maybe—

            The universe projection suddenly vanished from the room, as a new message came up on the main window of the bridge.

            “Incoming transmission?” Shiro whispered.

            Allura’s gaze darkened. “Lotor’s ship. Pidge, hide the equipment.”

            Pidge obliged without question, tearing off her headset and shoving all of her equipment behind Coran’s control board.

            “Do you think they’ve been found out?” Hunk whispered, as he and Pidge joined Shiro, Allura, and Coran in front of the window.

            “I hope not. Keep it quiet,” Pidge whispered back.

            The screen came to life in front of them. There were three people—Lotor, Lance, and Keith. Lotor grinned from ear-to-ear, while Lance smirked, and Keith stared bitterly at them. The sight of Keith in the Galran prisoner uniform sent a jolt through Pidge, and for a moment, she didn’t see Keith. She saw Matt. When she glanced at Shiro, he was even worse off. She expected a glare. She expected pent-up rage. But Shiro’s face had gone slack, the only sign of tension a muscle feathering in his jaw.

            _“Hello, Team Voltron,”_ Lotor greeted.

            “Prince Lotor,” Allura said, voice hard.

            _“Allura! It’s been a long time, dear friend,”_ Lotor said. _“You’re not still upset about our break-up, are you?”_

            Hunk choked. “What?”

            “Not the time or the place, Lotor,” Allura replied, crossing her arms. “What business do you have in sending us this transmission?”

            _“I just wanted to see how you all were holding up. I mean, after the death of your Red Paladin, and then the disappearance of the Blue Paladin and the Black Paladin’s brother…,”_ Lotor said, glancing at Lance and Keith.

            Lance widened his smile. Keith took a second to glare at Lotor and shift uncomfortably on his feet.

            _“I’ve also come with a…proposition. I’ll tell you now that I know your location, and without two Paladins, you cannot form Voltron. But I won’t attack.”_

            Lotor suddenly reached out and grabbed Keith by the hair. Lance took a step back, releasing his grip. In that moment, Pidge noted the earpieces they were both wearing. Which meant they’d either turned them off, or hadn’t yet had the chance to send a reply back. Hopefully. Assuming the communicators worked.

            _They have to work._

            _“Let go of me,”_ Keith growled.

            _“Instead, for each quintent that passes that Voltron is not in my possession, the prisoner shall receive a punishment. He won’t die—at least, not yet. But maybe he’ll wish for death,”_ Lotor said.

            Lance’s face whitened.

            Clearly, he didn’t know about _this._

            “Ryou’s done nothing wrong,” Shiro said, struggling to keep his voice in check.

            _“Just by association, he’s already disgusted me. And trust me, he is not the ideal prisoner. Too feisty. He has issues listening to authority,”_ Lotor said.

            The bruises seemed to register to everyone in the castle only then.

            _“You’re not in charge of me,”_ Keith snapped, trying to pull away from Lotor. Lotor shoved him back toward Lance.

            _“Hold his head still,”_ he commanded.

            “What are you doing?” Shiro demanded, taking a step forward.

            Lotor paused long enough to smile. _“This is quintent one without Voltron. This will be mild. Each quintent that passes, things will get worse from here.”_

            Lotor drew a knife from the side of his suit. Keith stared at the blade, and immediately tried pulling away. _“Get that thing away from me! Let go of me, you pricks!”_

            Lance held him still anyway, jaw tight.

            “I can’t look,” Hunk said, turning away.

            Lotor glanced between Keith and the screen, and his smile only got bigger. Pidge didn’t even think that was possible.

            _“Hold still, unless you want an eye taken out,”_ Lotor threatened.

            Keith tried to pull away anyway. _“I’ll kill you for this.”_

            Lotor chuckled. _“I’ll believe it when I see it.”_

            And then Lotor dragged the knife across the bridge of Keith’s nose, cutting deep enough to leave a scar. Keith screamed, thrashed, tried to get away. Lance stared up at the ceiling, jaw twitching. Shiro was stunned speechless—and then his knees buckled. Allura rushed to his side to help him up, and even Pidge took a step forward.

            Lotor took a step back, admiring his handiwork. Then he looked back at the team—specifically, at Shiro.

            _“How nice. Now you match!”_

            Shiro couldn’t find words.

            _“Like I said, Team Voltron, the longer you hold out on giving me Voltron, the worse his punishments get. I would act quickly if I were you.”_

            Lotor looked over to Lance.

            _“Jeremy, is there anything_ you _would like to say to them?_ _”_

            _“I have nothing to say to them,”_ Lance said.

            _“I see. They’re beneath you. I understand completely,”_ Lotor said. He turned back toward the screen. _“If you know what’s best for yourselves, and you desire to have Ryou back in one piece, I imagine you’ll act quickly.”_

            And then the transmission cut off.

* * *

 

            There was blood running down Keith’s face, and if Lance could maybe just slip up, just _accidentally_ let him go, then there would be blood running down Lotor’s face, too. Keith was still thrashing in Lance’s grip, still trying to make a swipe at the Galran prince. The transmission was over with, no one would be able to see him beat the everliving _shit_ out of Lotor, and he’d probably get another punishment later, but he didn’t care anymore.

            “Ah-ah-ah,” Lotor said. Keith was going to smack the grin off of his face the first chance he got. He eyed the knife in Lotor’s hand, still dripping with his blood. Lotor cocked his head, studying Keith’s face, angling the knife in different positions. Keith tried to back away, pressing himself as much against Lance as Lance would allow.

            Keith had sometimes thought about being held in Lance’s arms, bodies pressed together, and this was nowhere near what he’d had in mind.

            “You’d think you’d have learned by now where insubordination gets you,” Lotor said, and brought the tip of the knife down to Keith’s throat.

            “You won’t,” Keith taunted, swallowing hard. “You need me alive.”

            “How unfortunate,” Lotor replied, sheathing the knife with mild disinterest. “But do be aware that at any moment, I could hurt you, and all I’d have to do is call on the druids to bring you back to us. They take pleasure in that sort of thing. New ways to see how much the human body can take. After all, it’s not all the time we have Earthlings this far out here.”

            Keith opened his mouth to make another retort when Lance’s hand clamped over it.

            “Lotor,” Lance said, “wouldn’t it be best to leave him as unharmed as possible? For…you know? Your moment of glory? Make it fair, make it more fun to watch?”

            Lotor paused. Keith held his breath, wondering if maybe Lotor would finally put things together. Wondering if he would see through the ruse and order them executed right here, right now. Lotor’s eyes shifted from Keith to Lance, head tilting the other way now. Keith was close enough to Lance to hear Lance’s heart speed up a little, as he probably wondered the same things. If it came down to it, could they fight their way out of this thing? Could they get out alive?

            “How?” Lotor asked.

            Lance’s other arm, one that was currently wrapped around Keith, the one pressing them together, tightened a little bit more. Not enough for Lotor to notice. But enough for Keith.

            “H-How w—”

            “How did I have the fortune of having a spy as brilliant as you?” Lotor asked, breaking out into a wide smile. “You’ve just reminded me! I’ve never even told the prisoner about your brilliant idea! He has no clue what’s going to happen!”

            Panic spiked through Keith.

            _It was Lance_ _’s idea,_ he reminded himself. _Lance wants you safe. Lance_ needs _you safe._

            “I don’t know if your brother ever told you much about his time in my arena. I’m guessing not, because even just seeing you here appeared to traumatize him. But, you must have at least heard that he was the Champion. Our best fighter. I never got the chance to fight him—I had more important business to take care of then. And I thought to myself, what a shame! But now, I have his brother in my possession. It will be the closest I’ll ever come to fighting the Black Paladin, but it will do. You and I. Three quintents. We fight,” Lotor said.

            _What?!_

            Did Lance really sign him up to fight the Prince of the Galra Empire in the arena?

            Keith made a muffled series of noises behind Lance’s hand.

            “But, of course, you can’t fight without training! I’ve heard of how those Paladins tried to shield you from the war.” Lotor looked Keith up and down, smirking. “Of course, their efforts have turned out to be futile. Jeremy has decided that it would be no fun to watch a fight where one person is clearly outmatched. Where is the tension? The drama? He suggested allowing you training. I’ve agreed. Each quintent, starting tonight and then continuing through the following two, you’ll be allotted two vargas of training on our training deck. You and the training program. No one else. Of course, myself and Jeremy will be allowed to pop in from time to time, just to…track your progress.”

            _You mean figure out my weaknesses._

            Lotor talked too much for his own good, but Keith wasn’t about to tell him that. He just narrowed his eyes and stared Lotor down, even as Lotor turned away from him, calling over his shoulder, “Jeremy, for now, let us give him some time to think on this. Let us bring him back to his cell.”

            “Of course, Your Highness,” Lance replied.

            Lance changed his grip to allow Keith better movement. The arm wrapped around his torso moved to his arms, still cuffed behind him. The hand around his mouth came away more slowly. Keith didn’t want to look back, didn’t want to see Lance realizing that the blood all over his hand was Keith’s, that he’d allowed this to happen. So Keith stared straight ahead as Lance grabbed his other arm, and quietly ordered him forward.

            They had both known the risks when they took up this mission. All of Team Voltron had known. Keith had been asked multiple times if he wanted to back down, Shiro tried to get him to willingly back down, and he’d still said no. There was no turning back from this. They were here, and they would have to deal.

            The cuffs didn’t come off from around his wrists until he and Lance were standing in the middle of his cell, Lotor watching the whole time, hand resting on the hilt of his knife.

            “Do not try anything,” Lotor warned as soon as he saw that Keith had a full range of motion again. He stepped forward, unsheathing the knife.

            For a split second, the thought crossed Keith’s mind to try and take the knife. Or make a break for it. The door was wide open. Even better, if he could just get on his “bed,” and then use Lotor or Lance as a launch pad, he could get up to the air vent and get out that way.

            He ended up doing none of those things. Instead, he backed away from the knife, noting the satisfied look on Lotor’s face, and the pallid look on Lance’s. There was no way Lance could’ve known what Lotor was going to do to him during the transmission…was there? Would Lance have allowed it?

            _“Lance and Keith, this is Pidge. I know you two are wearing these communicators. Can_ someone _say something back to us before half the castle loses its shit?_ _”_

            Keith flinched at the sudden sound of Pidge’s voice in his ear, and Lotor laughed—he thought it was the threat of the knife. And he was too busy thinking that to notice Lance do the same. Keith rolled with it, eying the knife warily, flicking his gaze once to Lotor’s face to let him know that, yeah, he was afraid of the blade, could he please get it away from him now?

            “Someone will be back to retrieve you in a few vargas,” Lotor said, finally drawing back, looping his arm in Lance’s.

            Lance looked like he’d rather throw up.

            Lotor pulled Lance out of the room, away from Keith. Lance risked one look back, and Keith almost didn’t catch the words he mouthed: _I_ _’m so sorry._

            And then the door closed between them.

            _“Lance? Keith? Can_ one of you _for the_ love of Voltron— _”_

            “Sorry Pidge,” Keith said, after three full heartbeats. “We weren’t exactly in a position to answer. Lance still isn’t.”

            _“What’s going on over there? Are you okay?”_

            “I’m fine. I don’t know what Lance and Lotor have been up to, but I’m guessing Lance hasn’t had a moment to himself since he got here. Lance slipped me the communicator just before that transmission. I’m pretty sure he didn’t know Lotor was going to do _that,_ and neither did I. But I’m okay. Really.”

            There was shouting in the background on Pidge’s end of the communication. Keith recognized Shiro’s voice.

            “Pidge?”

            _“Do you two need an extraction?”_

            Keith dragged a hand down his face. Of course.

            “No, we don’t need an extraction. I mean, I can’t speak for Lance, but I don’t. We signed up for this, and we still don’t have any idea on what the Galra are planning. But what I can tell you is that in three days, I’m going to kick Lotor’s ass in the arena.”

            Now that he’d said it out loud, that he’d actually have the chance to put the prince in his place, he wasn’t feeling as badly about it—he even allowed himself a smirk of his own, as a plan began forming in his head.

            His little moment of triumph was interrupted by Shiro’s voice.

            _“Keith, what the hell are you saying? You agreed to fight Lotor? You can’t!”_

            “I didn’t _agree,_ Shiro. More like I was told. But I have a plan.”

            _“You mean besides to fight back?”_

            “Would you just listen to me?”

            Keith stopped himself and took a deep breath. _Patience. Yields. Focus._ It was Shiro’s voice ringing in his head. He continued on, “Lance convinced Lotor to give me time on the training decks, and chances are, Lotor’s gonna be watching and assessing how I fight. If I can take up a completely different fighting style on the training deck, then I get the upper hand in the real fight.”

            _“Hey, hey, yeah, sorry to interrupt, but have we forgotten that there’s like, an actual mission happening? That we need information on the Galra, and that we should probably be planning for that?”_ Hunk’s voice came through.

            “Lance’ll explain everything when he can. Like I said, I don’t think Lotor has left his side since he got here,” Keith said.

            _“Lotor has an obsession with any person he comes across that he perceives as attractive,”_ Allura cut in, angry. _“He’s probably trying to charm Lance.”_

            “Yeah, um, speaking of Lotor charming people…I don’t even want to ask—” Keith started, only to have Allura cut him off.

            _“We dated. Back when both of our fathers were Paladins and still friends. He charms you by acting sweet and making your opinion all that matters to him, to cover up the fact that he’s overcontrolling. Downright abusive. I punched him in the face and told my father and Zarkon that he fell. Coran was the only one who ever knew the truth about us.”_

 _“…I don’t know what to say to that,”_ Hunk remarked.

            Keith blanched.

            He just let Lance go off with Lotor. Unattended. Unprotected. There was also the matter of the fact that Lance was probably listening to all this, probably fighting to keep a straight face as he walked right alongside Lotor.

            _“Are you guys sure you don’t need an extraction?”_ Shiro asked.

            Keith bit his lip. He didn’t. He told everyone else he wanted to go on this mission, and he wasn’t about to back down now that things were getting a little rougher than they’d anticipated. But if Lance was uncomfortable, if Lance wanted to back down—     

            _“We’re sure,”_ Lance’s voice came through. It was low, like he was whispering. _“I told Lotor I needed to use the bathroom. He thought I meant I needed to actually have a_ bath _, so it took a bit of explaining, but I_ _’m alone for now.”_

            “Are you sure you’re comfortable going through with this?” Keith asked.

            _“I mean, I’m never comfortable around him, but I can deal. The whole point of this was for_ me _to charm_ him, _right? It_ _…seems to be working, I guess,”_ Lance replied.

            _“Okay, good, Lance is here and talking!”_ Hunk said. _“Now, the actual mission? Does anyone have any idea how we’re going to pull that off?”_

            _“There’s gonna be a celebration dinner in my honor tonight,”_ Lance answered. _“I’m imagining I’ll find out all sorts of things there. If I can, I’ll get the mic on, but I don’t know how much it’ll pick up.”_

            “Be careful,” Keith warned. “Lotor might be oblivious, but other people might not be. Don’t make yourself a bigger target than you already could be.”

            _“Yeah, about that…um…he may have told me he’s making me his second-in-command?”_

            There was a collective yell of “What?!” from everyone else.

            _“Basically he told me that everyone else here is completely oblivious, and he needs someone ‘smart’ like me to be his right-hand man. He thinks my knowledge of Voltron is gonna come in handy.”_

            A stunned silence settled over the group.

            Keith stood up and began pacing, waiting for anyone else to say something, waiting for Lance to say something more. When no one broke the silence, he took it into his own hands. “Be aware of everything happening around you. Watch for poison. Watch for an assassination.”

            _“Jeez, Keith, how cheery—”_

            _“That’s it!”_ Pidge interrupted.

            _“What’ve you got, Pidgeon?”_ Lance asked.

            _“When Lotor starts asking questions about Voltron, turn that mic on. We’ll feed you fake information to say—a collective mind. And then we all have one story to stick to. At the same time, we’ll hear whatever he’s giving you about the Galra Empire. From there, we can organize a plan to get you guys out of there—after you assassinate Lotor.”_

            “Wait, what?” Keith asked, at the same time Lance did.

            _“Lotor trusts Lance to an unprecedented degree…,”_ Allura murmured. _“If he can get close enough and get Lotor alone, he can kill him and cut off the Galra right at their center of command.”_

            “Have you forgotten about the druids? Haggar? And need I also remind you all that Zarkon isn’t dead? So we kill Lotor. We’ll need to get Lance out right away, or else he’s dead meat,” Keith said.

            _“You said you didn’t plan on remaining in your cell for long,”_ Shiro cut in. _“Figure out a way out and get to Lance as soon as you can. Two fighters in a battle are better than one.”_

            Hunk groaned. _“This sounds incredibly risky. I say we just get the information, get them back to us, and assassinate Lotor with our_ giant freaking robot. _Anyone else with me?_ _”_

            _“Keep talking,”_ Lance interrupted. _“I can’t talk anymore, but I’ll be listening. I’ll give the mic a tap to let you know when the earpiece is going off. Also, Hunk, I agree with you. I’m not sure I’ll be able to do what you just told me to do.”_

            Keith listened to the sound of a door opening, to the sound of Lotor greeting Lance. The other Paladins, who’d been talking amongst themselves on the other end of the communication, all fell into a hush at once.

            _“Do humans always take that long to…what did you say it was called, go to the bathroom?”_

            _“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,”_ Pidge muttered.

            Keith wished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Paladins can't plan for shit.


	5. The One in Which Keith Gets Access to Weapons

Chapter 5

            Keith mostly heard nonsense coming through his earpiece. Lotor wasn’t talking to Lance about anything particularly important—though Keith would give points to Lance for trying his hardest to sound interested in the different courses of the dinner that was scheduled for the night. The other Paladins either talked amongst themselves in the background, with certain snatches of conversation making their way to Keith (seriously, if Keith heard Shiro say “extraction” one more time, he was going to lose it), or they tried to coax Lance into asking Lotor questions that would _maybe_ lead to something useful.

            It never worked.

            Keith started tuning everyone out as he tried to get at the vent grate in the ceiling. The longer he went at it, the more frustrated he grew. The slab he called a bed had to be a good foot and a half off the ground, and he wasn’t that short. Jumping should’ve gotten him there, but each time, he missed. A couple times, his fingertips grazed the grate, but he never got high enough where he could pull it down. It was only after what was the twenty-third jump that he heard noise, heavily muffled, through the door to his cell. He leapt down from the bed, landing solidly on his feet just as the door opened.

            There were always two guards posted at his door. Keith only knew their names because once, he’d heard them arguing loudly enough to pick them up. The bigger, scarier-looking one was Rivvin, and the smaller, annoying one was Bloot. Keith had heard some unfortunate Galran names, but Bloot took the cake. And it was Bloot who entered Keith’s cell first, who ordered Keith’s hands behind his back to be cuffed. Keith wasn’t in the mood for another fight and obliged without a word.

            “Losing your fire already, huh?” Bloot snickered. “Lotor was wrong about this one. He’ll be broken by tomorrow night.”

            “I do not think you are supposed to say those things in front of the prisoner,” Rivvin snapped, taking Keith by the arms once his hands were cuffed.

            Keith rolled his eyes—not that either of them could tell. They shoved him forward with an order to start walking, but they continued arguing between themselves, over what they could and could not tell a prisoner. It was only then that Keith remembered he left his microphone on, because for the first time in a long while, a communication came through that got his attention.

            _“Keith, what’s going on?”_

            As per the usual, it was Shiro.

            _“He’s wearing handcuffs and has two guards with him, you dip,”_ Pidge’s voice came through. _“I don’t really think he can answer us.”_

            _“Did one of them just say the other was named_ Bloot? _Man, how unfortunate do you have to be? Bloot!_ _”_ Hunk chimed in.

            Bloot and Rivvin led Keith through the cell blocks, and then into the main hallways of the ship. Keith took in every sight he could, tried to mentally map out the place as best he could. Admittedly, this was not his forte—Pidge was probably the best suited for this, or even Lance. Lance could make a plan on the fly. Lance would not only have this place mapped, but he’d also have Keith’s whole escape plotted, exactly which guards he’d need to take out, how he’d need to take them out—

            “Here we are,” Bloot interrupted Keith’s train of thought by speaking rather obnoxiously, and rather loudly, in his ear.

            Keith scanned the room slowly. Clearly, it was one of the Galran training decks. To his left, a wall full of weapons. To his right, a whole computer to set up exactly how he wanted to train. The space was wide open—plenty of room to run around and throw things. On the far wall, opposite the doorway Keith was standing in, was smooth glass, for an empty observation room. If this was where the officers trained, Keith imagined that would be where their leader would be watching them from.

            “Our orders are to leave you alone here,” Bloot said, eying Keith skeptically. “I’m not sure how I feel about leaving a prisoner unattended with all these weapons.”

            _Leaving a prisoner unattended with all these weapons._

            Only glass separated him and the observation room. When Keith turned, to look Bloot in the eye and make a snide remark, he caught sight of a print-pad on the wall. Of course—normally, anyone who trained would have access to the exit, because they were supposed to be trusted soldiers. Not spies for Voltron pretending to be a prisoner.

            “Ignore him,” Rivvin ordered, rumbling voice startling Keith.

            Rivvin, when he wasn’t arguing with Bloot, took the back seat and let Bloot do all the talking to the prisoners—at least, that was what Keith had gathered in the few hours they’d been his guards.

            “You will be alone and unobserved, but we will be outside the door,” Rivvin said. “It would not be wise for you to try and escape, if that is what you are thinking.”

            Keith wondered what would happen if he somehow locked the door from the inside. Or if he destroyed the print-pad and broke the door. And then attempted to escape by smashing through the glass.

            Could he smash through the glass?

            This _was_ a training deck. If the Galra had common sense, they should have reinforced it, but one never knew.

            “I’m not stupid,” was what Keith spat at the guards.

            Bloot backhanded him hard enough to leave a mark.

            “Your mouth says otherwise, prisoner,” Bloot spat back, unlocking and taking off Keith’s cuffs anyway. He and Rivvin exited, shutting the door behind them.

            Keith approached the wall of weapons first. The selection was impressive, and his impulse was to go for the sword on the wall, but the _plan._ Keith looked at all the other weapons, and grabbed the biggest, heaviest blaster he could find, trying to balance the weight of it in his hands. Then he glanced curiously at the window. If he fired a shot…

            Keith decided in that moment that the recoil was one of the worst things about the gun. It blew him back, knocking him off of his feet, nearly slamming him into the wall. The blast ricocheted off the glass without so much as even scratching it—Keith had to duck to avoid it, as it hit the wall behind him, and left a rather large scorch mark.

            Okay. So the glass wasn’t breakable.

            Now, the door…

            Keith set the gun on the floor and went back to the wall of weapons. This time, he picked up a sword bigger than one he’d normally choose to use in battle, one with electricity arcing up and down the blade. He approached the print-pad and raised the sword, but when he brought it down, it bounced back, off of some invisible forcefield. When he put his empty hand into the same spot, nothing happened.

            It could detect anything that didn’t have Galran blood, or, at the very least, was not a hand.

            So.

            His only way out of here was to open the door and walk right on out, basically alerting his guards to the fact that he was trying to make an escape.

            _“—KEITH KOGANE.”_

Keith was finally paying attention to the earpiece.

            “Shit, sorry,” he said. “I’m on the training deck.”

            _“What was that blast? Are you hurt?”_

            “Ask one more overprotective question, Shiro, I dare you,” Keith retorted. “No, I’m not hurt. I was trying to see if I could escape from here. I’m alone, and there are guards outside the door. But this place seems to be escape…p-proof…”

            Keith, in lazily looking up at the ceiling as he talked to the communicator, caught sight of another air duct.

            “…Or maybe not.”

            _“Keith, this is Lance, don’t you dare. Not until tomorrow, at least.”_

            “Lance?” Keith asked. “What are you doing? Is Lotor with you?”

            _“No. He showed me to my sleeping quarters. Which are right across a hallway from his. He’s giving me time to rest, and says he’ll be bringing me down to the training deck in about a varga, and then after that, we’re going to the celebration dinner. You’re apparently not invited.”_

            _“Why do you know that?”_ Hunk interrupted.

            _“Dunno. He just mentioned it to me,”_ Lance said. _“But, Keith, he_ did _say the prisoners are doing something during the dinner. I don_ _’t know what.”_

            _“Probably an arena fight,”_ Shiro cut in.

            An arena fight.

            Keith turned over the blade in his hands. “So what do you think are the chances I end up fighting tonight?”

            _“Pretty strong. New blood. Fresh meat. Noob. Whatever you wanna call it,”_ Lance said.

            “This throws off my whole training plan,” Keith said. “How am I supposed to last in that arena if I’m supposed to be hiding my actual abilities?”

            _“Be patient,”_ Shiro said.

            _“Learn a new weapon. Learn a whole bunch of new weapons. Adapt,”_ Pidge added.

            _“In the time I’ve known him, Lotor has only ever known how to use a sword,”_ Allura said. _“Learn several ways to defend against a sword_ and _several ways to take him down._ _”_

            “Become a jack of all trades,” Keith muttered. “Got it. All right, I’ll be listening in, but my mic is going off. I  don’t wanna be talking to you guys when Lotor shows up to observe.”

* * *

 

            Lance had walked seemingly endless hallways for a few vargas, Keith’s blood drying on his hand, a reminder that he’d been the one to hold down Keith and let Lotor have at him. While Keith thrashed and tried to get away, tried to make the pain stop, Lance had held his ground and forced Keith’s head still, so Lotor could make it so that Keith and Shiro had matching scars.

            Keith’s screams were still echoing in his mind.

            The look on Lotor’s face through the whole thing was probably the worst. The prince had thoroughly been enjoying himself, relishing in each moment that Keith was in pain. A couple of times, he’d dared to meet Lance’s eyes, and they were alive. Bright. Bloodthirsty. If Lance had asked him to stop, in that moment, he didn’t think there was any way Lotor would have agreed. If Lotor had been _alone_ with Keith, with no transmission, no Lance there to stop things if they got too out of hand…

            Anger rushed through Lance, sudden and hot, at just the sheer _thought_ of Lotor alone with Keith.

            _Keith. Alone. Training deck._

            What if Lotor never came and got Lance and brought him to the training deck? What if Lotor was alone now, stewing on everything in the same manner Lance was, and came to the conclusion that he’d have some fun right then and there, with no one to stop him? Keith was vulnerable, and if he got hurt because of _Lance_ _…_

            Lance shut his eyes and flopped back on the bed in the room that Lotor had provided him with. He sank back into what he’d admit was one of the comfiest mattresses he’d ever been on, listening to the hum of radio silence in his earpiece. Keith’s mic was off. The others either had their mic off, or were just being _really_ quiet on the other end, because Lance was no longer even picking up on bits and pieces of conversation.

            Dinner had to go smoothly tonight. Lance needed information, and he needed it _fast._ Things were rapidly getting out of hand, plans falling to pieces almost as quickly as they came together. With the way Lotor was acting, he was by no means twenty steps ahead of them—he just had a knack for getting in their way. If he could just divulge a little bit of information about what the Galra were planning—preferably the whole plan, but Lance would take parts of it to be pieced together—then Lance could report back, the team could figure out an escape route, and then he and Keith could get out of here.

            The door to Lance’s room opened. Lance sat up slowly, watching as Lotor’s figure emerged from the shadows. Lance, who’d also turned his microphone off, quickly turned it back on, so fast that Lotor could’ve mistaken his motions for him scratching an itch at his wrist.

            “Oh, Lotor, what are you doing here?” Lance asked. _Without knocking._

            “I came to see the spy who’s going to save the Empire,” Lotor said, tilting his head to the side and smiling. The dude had to stop doing that. All it did was creep Lance out more than he already was just by being in the heart of the Empire.

            Lotor crossed the distance between the door and the bed in just a few strides. Lance shifted slightly, unsure of whether to scoot back or stay in his spot. In his ear, someone else’s microphone crackled to life. He brushed that aside, tried to focus on what was happening right in front of him.

            “Is it time to go down to the training deck?”

            Lance started to stand up, only to have Lotor place a hand on his chest and slowly sit him back down.

            “No, no, not yet,” Lotor said. “I thought we should…talk.”

            “We’ve been talking ever since I got here,” Lance said, acting like he didn’t notice the way his voice was cracking.

            Lotor settled himself on the bed next to Lance, hand moving from his chest to his thigh. Lance forced back the urge to cringe, forced himself to smile at Lotor the way he’d done to people back at home, back at the Garrison. If Lance wanted information, he would have to make a few sacrifices.

            _You_ _’re doing this for the team._

            “There’s something I noticed about you from the first day we officially met as equals. That day on the battlefield, when you were trying to finish off the Red Paladin,” Lotor said.

            _“Lance?”_ Keith’s voice was quiet in his ear.

            The rest of the team should’ve been listening in, should’ve been saying something. Lance didn’t know where they were, why they weren’t speaking, why there was _total silence from the people he and Keith were depending on_ , but he couldn’t think on it for long. He would have to make do. Just him and Keith.

            And Lotor, the big problem sitting right next to him.

            “I just…had this feeling about you,” Lotor said. “I hadn’t even seen your beauty yet.”

            _Oh quiznak._ Lance swallowed the bile rising in the back of his throat.

            _“Lance, are you okay?”_

            Part of standard Garrison training was learning different ways of speaking—different codes. Morse was one of the first ones they learned, the one that always stuck with them. With Lotor distracted, staring at Lance’s face, Lance tapped his microphone several times. One long press. One tap. Three more long presses.

_N. O._

            And then: four taps; one tap; a tap, a long press, two more taps; a tap, two long presses, and a tap.

_H. E. L. P._

            _“I can create a diversion. Do you need a diversion?”_

            “You think on your feet. Quite intelligent. Strong-willed. Strong in general, if I’m being honest,” Lotor said. “And, of course…incredibly handsome. When you _were_ with those scumrags…they never used you to your full potential. Always the Red Paladin with his sword. Or the Yellow Paladin, with his armored lion. Even that little Green Paladin. But rarely did they utilize your skills.”

            _“Lance,_ do you need a diversion? _Tap twice for no. Three times for yes._ _”_

            _Never used you to your full potential._

            He needed to do this. He couldn’t fail the team. In this moment, Shiro was placing more trust in Lance than Lance could remember ever receiving. He would not be weak.

            He tapped his microphone twice.

            _“Don’t lie to me, Lance, please. He’s pulling at your insecurities. Don’t let him do this to you.”_

            Lance contemplated turning his microphone off and diving right into this. If he did that, though, would Keith let him do this on his own? Or would Lotor be called away just moments later for a security breach?

            Lance kept the mic on.

* * *

 

            “You fucking _broke it?!_ ”

            “You left it on the floor and I _tripped!_ And watch your language, Y—”

            “Call me ‘Young Lady,’ and I will rip that bionic arm out of your socket!”

            “Shiro! Pidge! Silence!” Allura snapped, listening to the castle speakers. Pidge had rigged up the communication to go into those, instead of into her headset. In the middle of doing that, Shiro had managed to break the microphone.

            “Pidge,” Allura commanded, “fix the microphone as quickly as you can. Everyone else, pay attention.”

            Hunk and Coran flanked Allura on the bridge, closest to the speakers. Their communications were coming in loud and clear: Lotor and Lance conversing, while Lance used morse code to converse with Keith. At least, he had been. Now he seemed to be ignoring Keith.

            “Lotor must’ve struck a nerve,” Coran mused. “Lance never refuses to listen, especially to Keith, _especially_ in a situation like this.”

            Allura turned around again, to look at Shiro. Shiro, who stopped fighting with Pidge. Shiro, who seemed to just now be letting everything sink in.

            “Lotor had no way of knowing that Lance had that sort of insecurity,” Allura murmured. “Lotor was being straightforward right there.”

            Hunk’s face fell. He turned, to shoot a glance at Pidge, who’d paused in her tinkering long enough to look between him and Shiro and Allura.

            “M-Maybe he was just saying whatever he thought Lance would appreciate? Y-You know, to charm him, like you said?” Hunk suggested. He looked to Pidge for backup.

            “I’ll get the mic back up and running as soon as I can,” was all Pidge said, before diving back into her work.

* * *

 

            _Create the diversion before it goes too far. Just slam your hand on that pad and run like hell. Lotor will have to come and see what_ _’s going on._

            Keith couldn’t bring himself to do it. Lance took back his request for help. Lance was going to handle this all on his own, despite how uncomfortable he was.

            _“I recognized your skill,”_ Lotor said. _“I recognized how quickly you were able to assess a situation. How committed you were to your role of a spy, even speaking to me. It took great courage, I imagine.”_

            Keith stifled a groan.

            _“Some days, just getting up to go through with everything took great courage. But I knew I had to make it through. Each day, I had a mission I needed to carry out, and…nothing would stop me. Not even the other Paladins, no matter how much they might’ve tried.”_

            Keith sat down against the wall, next to the door. He drew his knees up, propped up his elbows on his knees, and smushed his face into his hands. He wanted so badly to believe that in that moment, Lance was lying. But the conviction. The sincerity. Keith even caught the wobble in his voice.

            Lance never acted like that around the Paladins, but even so.

            This was not an act. There was no way that it _could_ be.

            _“That will all change for you, Jeremy. You and I can lead this Empire and restore it to its full glory, side-by-side. No one will look down upon you. Not anymore. Especially not those Paladins—or what will be left of them when we’re through.”_

            “Lance,” Keith murmured. “Lance, we…I…”

            The words died in his throat.

            _“You and me?”_ Lance asked.

            _“You and I. If you join me now, perhaps…perhaps I can make a deal with Earth, and repercussions for resistance on their part can be…negotiated.”_

            _“Well…I’ll need time to think on this. This isn’t a decision one person can make right away,”_ Lance said.

            Rustling filled Keith’s ear. The fabric of Lance’s shirt over the microphone must have been moving. But the shirt Lance was wearing was skin-tight—the black jumpsuit the Paladins wore under their armor. It only moved like _this_ if someone was touching it.

            _“Of course,”_ Lotor said, voice muffled. _“Is there anything I can give you? Perhaps, as incentive?”_

            Keith’s blood ran cold.

            “Lance,” he said. “Lance. No.”

            There was silence on the other end. Keith shut his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, fingers knotting in his hair as he shoved it out of his face. Lance had two options. The first was to ignore Keith completely. The second was to heed his words. To end this.

            _“Why don’t you tell me over dinner?”_ Lance suggested.

            _“This sort of thing might be a little bit…improper to deliver at a meal,”_ Lotor replied. _“It is not something that is told.”_

            “Lance, I know you don’t want this,” Keith said, bringing his communicator cuff near his lips. “Don’t listen to him. Please.”

            Rustling filled Keith’s ear again. Then silence. Then, a moment later: three taps, three long presses, three taps. _S. O. S._

            _“Lotor, I’m…not sure. Don’t you think this is a little bit…quick?”_

_S. O. S._

            “Lance, _do you need a diversion?_ Tap twice for no or three times for yes.”

            _“I thought things have been moving at a fine pace, but…if you wish…”_

            Two taps.

            And then, almost hesitantly, a third.

            “Are you sure?”

            Three taps.

            “I’ve got you.”

            Keith stood up and took up a sword, one he could find that fit his grip best, from the wall. He was going to be punished for this when the guards caught him—he _needed_ to get caught, because they needed that information from the Galra—but Lance needed him. Keith brought his hand down on the print-pad, and moments later, the door opened.

            _They_ _’re going to want to know how I did that._

            “What the—” Bloot started, entering the room, only for Keith to hit him hard over the head. Bloot crumpled to the floor just as Rivvin moseyed in after him, and locked eyes for a moment with Keith.

            “You can help me, or you can end up like him. Choose wisely,” Keith said, aiming the blade for Rivvin’s throat.

            “You are the one the Blade told me about,” Rivvin said, eyes widening in surprise.

            Keith almost choked. “What?”

            “You are the Red Paladin,” Rivvin said, dropping his voice. “You are alive after all.”

            “What’s going on?” Keith demanded.

            “I am with the Blade of Marmora. I have not been found out yet, because my rank has not been high enough to do much sabotage. However, when I can…”

            “If you’re with the Blade, then you need to help me,” Keith said, voice low. “Alert Prince Lotor that his prisoner is getting away.”

            “Why would I do that?” Rivvin asked.

            Keith narrowed his eyes. “I’m helping a friend. Now do it!”

            Without another word, Keith bolted down the hallway, sword still in his hands, leaving Rivvin to use his own communicator to alert the Prince of the Galra Empire that Ryou Takashi had broken out of the training deck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See ya whenever the next one goes up!


	6. The One in Which Lance Gets the Most Done

Chapter 6

            That prisoner was going to suffer for this.

            Lotor stormed down the corridors of his ship, sword in hand. For Jeremy’s own safety, Lotor almost ordered him to stay put. No harm should come to the person who would aid Lotor in bringing Voltron down. However, Jeremy seemed quite insistent upon coming, and after that wonderful speech Lotor had given him, it didn’t seem fair to let him stay behind. After all, Jeremy had been the one to bring in the prisoner without Team Voltron noticing a thing was off. He had been the one to hold back the prisoner while Lotor slashed his face. It was only right that Jeremy come with him.

            It helped immensely that Jeremy was easy on his eyes, bringing calm to Lotor, even when sirens were blaring and the hallways alternated between purple and red light. Jeremy did not appear the less bit shaken. His face was drawn firmly in determination as he walked alongside Lotor, clutching Lotor’s own beloved knife in his hand. Lotor, of course, had not wanted Jeremy to be weaponless, lest he be forced to face their dastardly prisoner. What kind of host would Lotor to be, to let someone as lovely as Jeremy get injured because he was unable to defend himself?

            “As soon as we recapture him,” Lotor growled, “he is going straight to the druids. Only someone with valuable information would attempt an escape like this. And seeing as he has ties to Voltron, I may just have to summon Haggar.”

            “He won’t know much,” Jeremy spoke up. “I-In addition to keeping him away from training, they kept him away from most of Voltron’s secrets.”

            “But he must have grown close to you and the other Paladins,” Lotor said. “If I cannot find out Voltron’s weaknesses, I will at least learn each weakness of the individual Paladins. From there, it can be a simple matter of picking the rest of them off, one by one. Seeing as there are only three left, well…it will not be hard.”

            This would, of course, all take place tomorrow. Tonight, Lotor merely wanted to catch the prisoner and send him to the druids for interrogation, and then hold the celebratory dinner, where he would unveil the plans he’d sent Haggar to work on just a few weeks back. But, of course, _Voltron_ had to get in his way, yet again. Those insufferable Paladins, that ruinous robot…

            _“Your Highness, the prisoner has been apprehended and is being moved back to his cell,”_ a voice came through on Lotor’s own communicator.

            It was one of the many officers and guards posted about his ship. Lotor didn’t have time to keep track of the tremendous amount of names or faces, and this one was no exception. Some unmemorable Galran. Maybe Lotor would get to know this one, for having recaptured his prisoner.

            “Keep him there,” Lotor ordered. “I am on my way now.”

            “What’s going on?” Jeremy asked.

            “The prisoner has been recaptured and is on his way back to his cell. I believe we should pay him a visit, don’t you?” Lotor continued walking, but looped his arm in Jeremy’s.

            Jeremy stiffened a little bit when Lotor grabbed him. Lotor looked sideways at him. “Did I startle you?”

            “Just…just a bit,” Jeremy answered, face turning red.

            Lotor stopped. “Your face.”

            Jeremy’s face got redder. “What?”

            Lotor reached out to touch it. He brushed a thumb across Jeremy’s cheek—his cheek was practically burning up. When Lotor tried to meet Jeremy’s eyes, he found Jeremy purposely looking away from him. He was staring out at nothing—Lotor confirmed that himself, trying to follow where Jeremy was looking, only to find nothing there but a bit of wall.

            “Are you ill?” Lotor asked. “I can put off the interrogation. The druids can help you.”

            Jeremy _must_ have been ill. He looked Lotor in the eyes, but his gaze was still distant. Like he was processing everything, and it wasn’t quite sinking in.

            “Come. Off to the med bay,” Lotor said, and tried to tug Jeremy along with him, but Jeremy stayed rooted to the spot.

            “No, no, Lotor, I’m not sick. That—what I was doing—it’s called blushing. It’s what you do when you’re nervous. For some humans, it most often happens when they’re in the presence of…o-of someone they like.”

* * *

 

            “He didn’t.”

            “Holy quiznak.”

            Hunk and Pidge were the only ones on the bridge at the given moment, Pidge still working her hardest at trying to get the castle microphone back up, but whatever Shiro did—just _tripping_ on it, apparently—had ruined the whole thing.

            _“You…you like me. Is that what you have just told me, Jeremy?”_

            The giddiness edging Lotor’s voice made Hunk gag. Pidge scowled down at the microphone in front of her, trying to get the stupid thing to _work._ Every fix she’d tried so far—rerouting the wires, taking out the buttons and replacing them with new ones, replacing the battery pack, even just _plugging the damn thing back into the ship—_ wasn’t doing any good.

            And yes, she’d already tried turning it off and on again.

            _“Lance, what are you doing?”_ Keith’s voice called, echoing through the mostly-empty bridge.

            “Lotor is so dead later,” Pidge remarked, eyes narrowed. “I really hope we have a video feed of the arena whenever Keith gets to fight him. I want to see his purple ass get kicked.”

            _“I mean…I_ am _incredibly nervous around you,_ _”_ Lance replied. _“I guess I could say I enjoy your presence, but do I ‘like’ you…I’m still figuring that out.”_

            Keith started making unintelligible noises.

            “Yikes,” Pidge muttered.

            “That’s gotta _hurt,_ ” Hunk said. “Does Lance know about that, by the way?”

            Pidge shrugged. “He might have a little bit of an idea, but I’m not sure he knows the full ex—GOT IT!”

            Hunk peered over Pidge’s shoulder—sure enough, the microphone was working. “Keith, Lance, this is Pidge and Hunk. The castle is back online. Sorry for that. Shiro broke the microphone,” Pidge announced.

            _“How convenient,”_ Keith snapped.

            “Believe me or don’t, that’s fine, but we’re here now. And we’ve been listening the whole time,” Pidge said. “Nice going with the guard.”

            _“Yeah. Now I can stab Lotor when he comes in here,”_ Keith said.

            “We still need the information on what the Galra are planning, buddy,” Hunk interrupted. “That dinner is tonight. Can you maybe hide the blade and like, stab him tomorrow, when he comes to hurt you because he doesn’t have Voltron?”

            _“Shit,”_ Keith whispered.

            “Yeah, we’ve all been there—”

            _“No, I mean listen!”_

            Pidge and Hunk paused to listen.

            _“Do you hear that?”_

            “No,” Hunk answered. “What am I listening for?”

            _“Lance. I think he shut his mic off.”_

            “I hope it didn’t die,” Pidge whispered.

            _“What was that, Pidge?”_

            “Absolutely nothing. Just focus on the mission. We’ll fill Shiro and Allura in on what’s going on and get back to you with a plan as soon as we can. Lance, if you’re listening to us still, we need that information. And if you shut your mic off, for the love of Voltron, would you turn it back on?!”

* * *

 

            The launch bay of the Black Lion was marked by eerie silence as Allura entered. The hulking form of Shiro’s Lion was immobile, powered off, but its energy vibrated in Allura’s bones. The Black Lion was awake, and there was no doubt in Allura’s mind that the Black Paladin was sitting inside. She approached the Black Lion slowly, cautiously. It seemed to sense her presence, its eyes glowing a bright yellow as she stepped in front of it. The jaw lowered, and the ramp up to the cockpit opened up for her.

            “Thank you, Black,” Allura said quietly.

            Shiro’s was already sitting up, head turned toward the back of the ship to see Allura as she entered.

            “Princess,” he murmured.

            “Shiro,” Allura replied.

            Shiro breathed in deeply, and blew out the air through his nose, a heavy sigh. Allura came up next to Shiro, gently rested an arm around his shoulder. Shiro brought his hand up to take Allura’s.

            “Shiro,” she said again, “I don’t blame you for anything. I’ll put that out there first. You’ve been through much in the last year and a half. You’ve been doing your best.”

            Shiro pursed his lips, shook his head.

            “I’ve been trying to do well. None of that has been my best—not to me. I just…to hear it. And to realize that he wasn’t wrong. I’ve been treating Lance like…I’ve been treating him like…” Shiro couldn’t find the right words to finish his sentence, and ended it with another sigh.

            “Like he’s less than the other Paladins,” Allura finished for him, voice soft.

            “I didn’t even realize it. Keith is like my brother. And ever since I got close to Matt, Pidge was like my little sister. Hunk was always one to wait for orders, not jump into action. I looked at Lance, and saw his personality, and I trashed him for it. I need to apologize the first chance I get. I’d prefer to do it in person, but…I need to do it as soon as our microphone goes back up,” Shiro said. “I can’t have him go the rest of this mission thinking he’s doing this for someone who doesn’t even care about him.”

            “I haven’t treated him as well as I should have been, either,” Allura whispered, running her free hand through Shiro’s white forelock. “You’re not the only one at fault.”

            “I just hope…I just hope that he’s okay.”

            “As do I.”

* * *

 

            The blade Keith had stolen was too big to stash in a folded-up blanket. He’d resorted to stashing it on the ground, out of sight of anyone in the doorway. If Lotor came in, all Keith would have to do would be to keep him on the one side of the room, so that the blade remained out of his view and out of his reach. Once Lotor was gone, Keith could open the vent grate no problem, maybe even use the blade to pull himself up. Then he’d have a way in and out of here, and could gather intel on his own, no problem.

            For now, though, he lay on the slab he called a bed, the thin blanket stretched out underneath him. Lance had gone silent on him, just as the castle came back to life. He had no idea how much more was said between him and Lotor, was _being_ said. What had Lotor responded? How had the rest of that conversation gone? And if Lance had intentionally turned off his microphone for the rest of it, _why?_ Did he not want the team’s reactions distracting him?

            Every time Keith felt like he was getting closer to Lance, like maybe things would finally go right and lead down a path Keith actually wanted to go down, something dragged them back. Something with purple skin and pointed ears and white hair long enough to strangle it with. Part of Keith wanted to see how long he could drag out his prisoner act, if he could have the restraint to make it to the night he faced Lotor off in the arena, just to have the satisfaction of laying waste to him.

            The other part of him, the more rational part of him, the part that Shiro wanted to nurture, knew that he and Lance needed to work quickly and get out of here as fast as possible. Which meant that really, Keith shouldn’t have been doing anything that would get him dragged off to an interrogation, like the one he was waiting for now.

            _Lance needed out of there._

            Keith had multiple regrets from less than a day of being here, but pulling that stunt to get Lance out of that situation was not, and never would be, one of them. He’d take whatever they threw at him if that meant Lance was safe and away from that creep.

            Voices started up outside of Keith’s door. He sat up slowly. It was Lotor, and without a doubt, Lance had to be with him. Keith’s stomach flipped, dizziness rushed to his head, and briefly, Keith wondered if _he_ would be the one that would get sick. His veins flooded with adrenaline as the door opened. Lotor strolled in, and his arm was not simply looped in Lance’s, like Keith had seen before. Instead, Lotor gripped Lance’s hand, fingers intertwined. Keith decided then to focus on glaring at Lotor’s face.

            “So, the prisoner is still as defiant as ever,” Lotor said. “I heard you tried to escape your training session. I must admit, I am quite curious as to how you managed to pull that off—well, partly. Clearly, you did not make it very far. I find it funny—you lack the new bruises I expected.”

            “Not a great fighter,” Keith said, shrugging, daring to turn up the corner of his mouth. “Hell of a sprinter, though.”

            “Mmm. You still have a mouth, too,” Lotor deadpanned. “That is wonderful to hear, Ryou Takashi. Now, I have a question for you: how do you feel about a visit to the druids? I have had enough of you, and I think it would do you some good. Don’t you agree, Jeremy?”

            Lotor cocked his head to the side and gave Lance a smile that made Keith’s stomach churn.

            “This visit is long overdue,” Lance said, smirking in Keith’s direction.

            Lotor raised his arm, and Keith noticed then that he was holding a sword—not the knife that had been used to give Keith a scar. Keith found that knife in _Lance_ _’s_ hand, but Lance made no move to use it. He was fixated on Lotor’s blade, as Lotor rested the tip of it at the base of Keith’s neck, letting go of Lance’s hand to steady the blade.

            “Since we _are_ going to send you to the druids, I have considered another punishment for this…insubordination.”

            Keith decided then that “insubordination” was right up there with “extraction” on the list of words he never wanted to hear again for as long as he was on this mission.

            Keith was still as Lotor nicked the base of his neck with the blade, a spot of blood welling up. He stared down the blade, wondering how quickly he could grab it out of Lotor’s hands. He’d have to actually _touch_ the blade, and probably slice the palms of his hands in the process, but it would have been worth it if he could actually steal it.

            He didn’t.

            Lotor raised his blade, leveled the tip of it with Keith’s eye now.

            “Lotor,” Lance said.

            Keith held his breath, eyes flicking to Lance.

            “Yes?” Lotor asked, pausing, turning to look at Lance like he was the only thing on his ship.

            “Your moment of glory,” Lance reminded him. “A fair fight, remember? When you defeat him in that arena, in a fair match, it will make you that much stronger to the public eye. If he gets sent to the druids, he might come back _too_ strong.”

            “Of course,” Lotor said, and lowered the blade, until it was hanging back at his side.

            Keith’s fists curled around the blanket on his bed as he watched Lance and Lotor gaze into each others’ eyes.

            “You have been most helpful today,” Lotor said, and even dared to bring a hand up to cup Lance’s cheek.

            Lance went scarlet.

            Keith was _seeing_ scarlet.

            “Guards,” Lotor called, never once taking his eyes off of Lance, while Lance remained fixated on him. “Take Ryou Takashi to the druids. Interrogation, level Bolza-Ven. Make sure he doesn’t get hurt _too_ badly.”

            Lotor strode out as Rivvin walked in, supporting a still-unconscious Bloot as best he could. Lotor didn’t even bat an eye.

            “The prince is…not the brightest, if you could not tell,” Rivvin said quietly.

            “Oh, I noticed,” Keith said. “Thanks for covering. Feel up to covering me some more?”

            Rivvin nodded solemnly. “Of course.”

            Keith grinned. “Good. Make sure no one comes into this cell. I’m going to check out the rest of this place. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

* * *

 

            Lance still didn’t turn his microphone back on.

            He left his earpiece on, but it was better to go about the mission his way, and pretend like he didn’t even hear the castle. Hear Keith. Lance had been stunned to hear that there was a member of the Blade of Marmora in even some of the lowest ranks of the ship. What were the odds that one of _Keith_ _’s guards_ would end up being a member of the Blade?

            The panic within him had eased once he and Lotor left Keith to the mercy of the Marmorite, and Lance realized that tonight, Keith would not be seeing the druids. His mind wouldn’t be sifted through to find information about Voltron. His identity was safe for now. At the moment, Keith was in the air ducts of the ship, crawling around, relaying information in a hushed voice back to the castle. Keith hadn’t spoken directly to _Lance_ since he’d noticed the microphone went down.

            _You brought this upon yourself. Focus on the mission._

            “Welcome back to the grand dining hall,” Lotor said, taking a step in front of Lance, never breaking the grip of their entwined hands. Lotor pushed the door open to reveal one of the bare rooms he’d showed Lance earlier.

            Earlier it had definitely been a sight, but now, it was decorated, in an elegant manner Lance didn’t even think the Galra were capable of achieving. Pennants with the mark of the Galra hung high above a long dining table, set with too many plates and silverware pieces to count. Purple light glowed in ornate chandeliers above the table—chandeliers that definitely had not been there earlier. The walls were covered in dark fabric, to hide the built-in lighting system. Gems, presumably dug up from planets the Galra had ransacked, adorned anything and everything. The chairs. The table. The wall fabric.

            Lance was speechless.

            “Tonight, we celebrate you,” Lotor said. “You have brought us the Blue Lion, and so we may finally begin the experiments that will determine how quickly we can bring Voltron down, until it is ours. I have ordered Haggar to the ship, and she shall be arriving shortly—most likely during this dinner. But enough of me talking. Come.”

            Lotor pulled Lance along, into the dining room. Guest Galrans paused in their conversations to look at Lance and Lotor, side-by-side. Some whispered, others pointed at their hands, and a few others looked at Lance skeptically. Most of these people saw the next Galran hero, regardless of the fact that he didn’t have a drop of Galran blood in him. Others saw a poser, an outsider somehow worming their way in, undeserving of the spotlight. And then, Lance guessed, there were probably a few who didn’t like Lotor, who thought this was a bad idea. By extension, they probably thought _Lance_ was a bad idea.

            He should’ve been used to it by now.

            “Here,” Lotor said, leading Lance to a small table on a dais. There were two chairs here, across from each other. Lotor stopped next to one chair and pulled it out, gesturing for Lance to sit.

            Lance obliged hesitantly, eying the chair the whole time. He was half-expecting restraints to pop out of nowhere and secure him to the seat, half-expected Lotor to announce that Lance was a spy, and he’d been led on, and now he was trapped here. But nothing of the sort happened. Lance reached for his wrist. He’d at least told the castle that he’d have transmissions on during this dinner. He didn’t intend to let them down.

* * *

 

            Keith had been hearing murmuring from the Castle of Lions in his ear for about half an hour, and had tuned them out when things made the shift from “important knowledge and conversation” to “everyone has forgotten they’re even on the mic.” Now, though, a new sound interrupted: the din of a crowded party.

            Lance had finally turned his microphone back on.

            Keith almost said something. It wouldn’t have been a snide remark. He was relieved that he at least had the knowledge of where Lance was, and that he was _safe,_ but something held him back. Maybe it was the fact that Lance had shut it off in the first place, but Keith felt then that it wasn’t his place to say anything, and he kept his mouth shut as he continued on through the air ducts, trying to move as silently as possible. The sword, tied to his back with the purple tunic of the prison uniform, made that difficult—if Keith moved too far, one end of the sword would start digging into the duct ceiling, while the other end dug into his back.

            The slow-going process gave him a lot of time to think on his next moves. The first move was to get back in his cell before someone _else_ came to round him up for tonight’s arena show, if that was what was truly happening. The next one was to try and find a moment where Lance was alone and just _talk_ to him. Their moments for total honesty were too scattered and too brief. Keith wanted length. Keith just wanted to hear Lance when the Blue Paladin wasn’t constantly checking to make sure he was alone.

            After that…Keith was guessing he’d have a few hours to just stop and _rest._ Sleep for as long as he could and gain his energy back. He didn’t know what the morning would bring, when Lotor would decide to come around and beat him up on-camera for the rest of Team Voltron to see, whether he’d get personally escorted by the prince to the druids, how he’d get through training…

            Maybe after tonight, Lance would have all of the information the team needed, and the two of them could get out of there on the Blue Lion. Rivvin could help Keith sneak back into the air ducts, Keith could find and rescue Lance, they’d get to Blue, and blast off.

            _“Galrans!”_

            Keith stopped moving, listening as Lotor’s voice boomed in his ear. Even from however far he was away from Lance—hopefully, _far—_ he was still loud.

            _“Please, join me in welcoming our guest of honor, Jeremy Ortega, to this wondrous feast. Jeremy has been putting himself through many trials and tribulations, suffering each day with Team Voltron, finding out their secrets for us, finding new ways to bring down the biggest nuisance in the universe! He has slain the Red Paladin! He has delivered the Blue Lion! And soon, he will have aided in the delivery of the rest of Voltron!”_

            A chair scraped the floor—Lance must’ve been rising to greet the wildly cheering crowd.

            _“Thank you, thank you,”_ Lance said. That was all he said, before it sounded like he sat back down and let Lotor do the talking.

            _“For now, loyal Galrans, you shall feast! And soon, when our very own sorceress, Haggar, arrives, we shall unveil our plans for destroying Voltron once and for all! Vrepit Sa!”_

            The crowd echoed Lotor’s call, as did Lance—a little too enthusiastically.

            “Lance,” Keith tried. “Whatever I did to you earlier, I’m sorry. I just…just be careful. Remember what I said to you before. Be careful with the food. Anyone could be out to kill you. Hell…Lotor could be stringing _you_ along. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

            Keith wasn’t expecting a response, but he got one: three long presses, followed by a long press, tap, and another long press.

            Morse code for OK.

            Keith let himself breathe a little easier. Lance had heard him. Lance had acknowledged him.

            _Now focus on your own mission._

            His main goal was to find where the Blue Lion was and steal back his bayard. If he had a route directly to Blue from his room, then escaping later on would be a lot easier. And it wouldn’t hurt to have his bayard on him. He’d just have to make sure Lotor never noticed it.

            Keith went on for some time, listening to the sounds in his earpiece. The rest of the team had been fairly quiet since Lance came back online, but every once in a while, Keith caught pieces of conversation—Shiro, Allura, and Coran plotting different courses to jump to and from Lotor’s ship, Hunk and Pidge trying to take down every bit of information they could. But for the most part, the only thing he could hear was the dinner party.

* * *

 

            So far, Lance didn’t _think_ anything was poisoned. Then again, his Garrison training had been limited—the Garrison wasn’t prepared for alien life like this to exist, so they didn’t exactly spend time studying the methods of potential political assassinations on far-away planets. Or ships. But still, he was cautious. He ate in small bites, drank whatever the Galrans were drinking with small sips. Mostly, he thought that if he busied himself, maybe he wouldn’t have to keep leading on Lotor.

            Lotor, who’d been talking nonstop throughout this dinner about utterly useless topics.

            Lance had spent this whole time torn between listening to Lotor complain about his dad and the ship’s conditions and how he was going to crush Voltron—without giving away any details of _how_ —and listening to Hunk and Pidge whispering, things like “Did you get that?” and “Really, _that_ _’s_ how he keeps his hair so clean?”

            “You have been quiet,” Lotor said.

            Lance raised his eyebrows, fork halfway to his mouth.

            Slowly, he set it down.

            “I’m just tired is all. It’s been a long d—quintent. Running after a prisoner like Ryou sure does drain you of your energy,” Lance replied.

            “I see,” Lotor said. “It is most unfortunate. Once _this_ was over, I was going to bring you down to the arena. Even with a celebration like this, the Galrans not in attendance still demanded some other form of entertainment. There w _ill_ be fights tonight. And the source of your turmoil will most definitely be there, assuming the druids have not hurt him too badly.”

            _Keith is fighting tonight._

            _“Great,”_ Keith’s voice came in his ear. _“That means I need to get back to my cell soon, huh?”_

            “Speaking of druids…I suppose I can tell you now, what I plan to do with Voltron. You can aid me,” Lotor went on.

            Lance sat up a little straighter, while the noises in his ear ceased almost entirely.

            “I’m listening,” Lance said, leaning forward.

            Lotor glanced conspiratorially around the room, and then also leaned forward. “As you probably know, the Galra have been using quintessence to make this Empire run. I am certain you’re familiar with it, since Princess Allura is a source of it, herself. Quintessence lies within the lions, does it not?”

            Lotor already knew the answer.

            “Yes,” Lance said.

            “You see, as of late…any quintessence we try to use is…averse to us. But I have sent Haggar on a mission, and she is on her way back at this very moment with success. We can turn the quintessence of _anything_ into something malleable, if you understand my meaning. Haggar has found a way to make quintessence obey her wishes, and this…is what we plan to do to the Lions of Voltron. Sever the bond between Lion and Paladin, and then we have no need to find and train new Paladins, if Haggar and a select few druids can control the Lions without setting a foot inside of them. Nobody needs to know how to be a pilot. Nobody has to risk their life on a battlefield. And best of all, there will be no Voltron to stop us— _we_ will have Voltron.”

            Lance wasn’t sure he was breathing anymore.

* * *

 

            The Castle of Lions stood in silence, letting the last echoes of Lotor’s words fade around them. Allura’s hands shook as she took a step back, and Shiro had an arm around her in a second.

            “Uh, guys,” Hunk said. “Can he do that?”

            “Not exactly,” Allura whispered. “He is overlooking something. You all have very deep bonds with your Lions, I would hope. The closer the bond, the more closely connected the quintessence of a Lion is to a Paladin. Lotor cannot just _sever_ the bond. What he can do is poison the Lion, which in turn…poisons the Paladin.”

            “So what you’re saying is he’ll have mind control over the Lions and _us?_ ” Pidge asked.

            “I-I’m afraid so,” Allura said. “By extension, the Lions have been tied by my father to _me._ ”

            “It’s like poisoning Allura five times over,” Coran elaborated.

            Before anyone else could say something, Lance began talking. _“How do you know this will work?”_

            _“We don’t, exactly. Haggar has confidence in the plan, and she is rarely wrong. Unfortunately, I will not be present when things are tested on the Blue Lion. Haggar only has time to go through with tests during my arena fight with Ryou.”_

            _“Are you fucking kidding me?”_ Keith interjected.

            “It doesn’t matter,” Shiro said. “That’s it. That’s the Galran plan: capture Voltron, corrupt the Lions. We have the information we need. You won’t be there in three days. You’ll be back here. Allura, Coran, and I have a plan to try and get you two out _tonight,_ while you’re supposed to be asleep. Just hang on for a little bit while we finalize it.”

            Shiro gestured for Pidge to shut the mic off. She raised her eyebrows but didn’t question it, switching off the mic.

            “Allura, Coran, can we get to them tonight? Are you sure we have enough power to do this?” Shiro asked.

            “We should,” Allura said. “But it also depends on how quickly Lance and Keith can get themselves to the Blue Lion. Once we make the jump, we expose ourselves and leave ourselves open to attack.”

            “Yeah, and we all know how well that particle barrier holds up,” Pidge muttered.

* * *

 

            Keith made his way back to his cell as quickly as he could, without ever having found Blue, without his bayard. He jumped down from the air ducts and landed on the bed, blanket muffling the sound of his landing. He worked fast, undoing the knot he’d made out of the tunic and dumping his sword behind his bed. He shrugged the tunic back on just in time for Rivvin to open up the cell door.

            “Arena fight. Mandatory,” Rivvin said.

            “What happened to Bloot?” Keith asked, allowing Rivvin to take him by the arms.

            “There is another officer whose patrol comes right through here. He is one of us. Told him what happened, and he took Bloot off to the med bay. He said he would tell the druids that Bloot accidentally knocked himself out in pursuit of the prisoner Ryou Takashi,” Rivvin said.

            Keith smiled. “Thank you, Rivvin.”

            Rivvin didn’t return the smile. “Do not thank me yet.”

            Keith’s smile faded. “Right.”

            With that, Rivvin hauled him off, toward the arena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you by 1 AM coffee and the avoidance of relatives.


	7. The One in Which Many Things Go Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the funniest thing ever is sending out-of-context snippets of your progress to your friends over Snapchat and watching them freak out.

Chapter 7

            This was the place where Shiro had gotten his title as the Champion. Now, with a matching scar, Keith stood in the entryway, as a crowd roared at the sight of the prisoners finally arriving. He was the first one up—of course he was. The only weapon he was given was a strangely-shaped sword that didn’t quite feel balanced in his hands. There were other prisoners at his back as a robotic sentry guided him into the ring. None of them tried to speak to Keith, and Keith didn’t try to speak to them.

            In his ear, Keith heard the dinner party start to come to a close. Shortly after revealing his plans to Lance, Lotor released an abridged version to the guests, who ate it up without a second thought. Lance had been silent the whole way through, and Keith couldn’t even say something to him. He’d kept his mouth shut as Rivvin brought him here, and he’d keep it shut until he was back in his cell for the night. After that, _then_ he could get into contact with Lance, and the two of them could brainstorm a way out of here.

            For now, he would fight.

            He entered the arena to the jeers and cheers of the crowd. No one announced his name, but it wasn’t like anyone would have cared. He was a prisoner, and they wanted to see a prisoner get the crap kicked out of him. He was supposed to be fighting some crowd favorite, some hulking beast of an alien, a Galran that the druids had had too much fun experimenting on, who looked more robotic than anything. Just like most of these gladiator fights apparently went.

            _“Are you sure you do not want to accompany me to the arena?”_

_“Yeah, I’m sure, I’m pretty exhausted. I’ll see you tomorrow, Lotor.”_

_“As you wish, dearest Jeremy.”_

            Keith was on his own for this one. He stood at the far edge of the arena, the roars of the crowd swelling into one crescendo as Keith watched the other end of the arena, watched his opponent stalk forward with all the confidence of a seasoned gladiator, one who’d never lost a fight in his life. Keith could see plainly why: he was unfairly advantaged, cybernetic parts loaded with weapons. Some were obvious, like the cannon-hand, but others were more subtle, like the laser charging in one robotic eye.

            His opponent got the ball rolling, shooting the cannon right at Keith. With how bulky his sword was, Keith couldn’t just tuck and roll like he wanted to. He sprinted off to the side, using the hooked end of the sword to grab onto one of the columns and swing himself around it. The second cannon blast smashed into the column. The blast caused the whole thing to vibrate, and it left a scorch mark, but overall, it was intact.

            Keith peered around it, to find his attacker waiting for him. Once his attacker caught sight of him, he blasted again—this time, a series of blasts. Keith bolted, one of the blasts catching the back of his leg. He fell, sword flying out from his hand, skidding away from him. His opponent rushed at him, this time, and a laser shot straight from his eye. Keith scrambled to get away from the laser eye, abandoning his sword.

            His opponent scooped it up and promptly snapped it in half.

            “Oh, come on!” Keith shouted.

            _“Keith, what’s happening?”_

            Keith expected it to be a communication from the castle, and found himself flooding with relief when he heard Lance’s voice.

            “Arena fight,” Keith said, voice low enough that no one else would hear. “No weapon. Severely outmatched. There’s a real chance I’m gonna die.”

            _“You’re not allowed to die,”_ Lance said. _“Hang in there.”_

            “Please don’t do something stupid,” Keith said.

            Keith turned at that moment, only to be met with an energy beam, right in the chest. He fell back, wind knocked out of him. He hit the ground on his side with a sickening snap. He couldn’t drag himself up before he took another one, keeping him down.

            _“Follow your own advice!”_ Lance snapped.

            Keith groaned, struggling to get himself up while the crowd yelled and cheered for his attacker.Keith looked around, while his attacker was too busy reveling. His broken sword had been tossed aside, and now lay on the ground. Keith picked up the end with the handle, with the now-jagged blade. Without the other half of the blade, it was lighter in his hands. Easier for him to use.

            In a number of societies that Keith was aware of, it was considered cowardly to attack someone from behind, where they were most vulnerable. In that moment, Keith decided to be a coward, and rushed his attacker, thrusting the sword through his back. He heard a snap, but the sword got stuck halfway through. The attacker turned around, with so much force that Keith moved with the blade. His hand slipped, and he went flying across the arena.

            His opponent was _pissed._

            And clearly not dead.

            Keith landed on his stomach this time, his ribcage protesting this new development, and he couldn’t help the cry of pain that escaped him.

            _“Keith, dammit, I said hang on! What did you do?”_

            “Broken rib,” Keith ground out. “And I’m _hanging on,_ I just don’t know for how much longer!”

            Another cheer, louder than any of the other ones, suddenly rose from the crowd. Keith looked around and followed the crowd’s gaze—Lotor had entered the arena. He stood at the top of a dais overlooking the whole thing, and his eyes were set on Keith. Keith stood up, clutching his side. If this was the opponent he was facing tonight, then he wondered what tricks Lotor would’ve had up his sleeve for _their_ fight.

            _“Keith?”_

            “Lotor’s here.”

            _“He’s just distracting you. Focus on getting your butt out of there alive!”_

            Keith attempted to heed Lance’s words too late. He avoided getting skewered right through the back with the _other_ broken end of the sword, the one with nothing but blade, the one he’d ignored, but not enough to avoid getting hit entirely. His other side, opposite the one with the broken rib, was sliced, blood welling up and spilling out immediately.

            “Shit!”

            _“Keith!”_

            Keith did the only thing he could do, and, cringing as he did so, grabbed the blade, ripping it out of his opponent’s non-cannon arm. With his two arms, compared to his opponent’s one, he was able to wrench it away, slicing both of his palms open. The blood did nothing but make his grip on the whole thing worse, and when he went to attack, the blade only made a small cut on his opponent’s arm before tumbling out of Keith’s hands.

            This was how Keith was going to die.

            The next hit he took sent him right back to the ground.

            A shadow fell over him, and Keith curled in on himself, waiting for the death blow. But just before he could be finished off, Lotor’s voice boomed around the arena: “Stop the fight!”

            “What…?” Keith murmured, too exhausted to even raise his head.

            _“Did Lotor just call off the fight?”_

            Realization hit Keith, and bitter, blood-spattered laughter came out of him. “A dead prisoner…useless…he wants me alive…”

            Alive, but not unharmed.

* * *

 

            Lance paced back and forth in his room for nearly an hour after the fight ended. The last he’d heard from Keith himself was grunting and groaning, presumably as he was hauled out of the arena, while Lotor made some big speech about how Keith was instrumental in bringing down Voltron, but Voltron wasn’t invincible. Truthfully, Lance didn’t know—Lotor had done some verbal gymnastics until he could no longer tell what the main point of his message was, just that it sounded inspiring to his people. Plus, Lance was busier hustling back to his room—he’d been on his way to Blue, to go get Keith’s bayard—before anyone could catch him out and about, instead of resting.

            He couldn’t rest.

            Not when, in his ear, he could hear the druids following the orders to do the bare minimum of healing Keith’s injuries, which was essentially just to keep him alive. So far, none of them had discovered Keith’s communicator setup, and hopefully, it would stay that way. Once the communicator was found…Lance didn’t want to think about it. Because there was no doubt in his mind that that scenario would end with Keith’s death. Prisoners and leverage were one thing. Spies and traitors were another.

            It was a while before the noises in his ear changed—Keith was moving.

            Lance waited and listened, until he heard Rivvin’s voice in his ear, talking to Keith.

            _“You took a beating back there.”_

Keith managed nothing beyond a grunt.

            _“You need rest if you are going to get through the next few quintents.”_

            And then he heard the sound of Rivvin walking out of the room.

            “Keith?” Lance asked.

            _“…L-Lance?”_

            By now, the night watch rotation had started. Lotor was likely in his own room across the hall, pampering himself before bed. Narrowing his eyes, Lance opened his door and poked his head out. The hallway was devoid of life—perfect. Lance darted out of his room, shutting the door in his wake.

            “I’m coming to your cell,” Lance whispered.

            Keith laughed, sounding half-delirious on his end. _“I must be dead.”_

            “You’re alive, buddy,” Lance said, peering around another empty corner, and then sprinting down the next hallway. He sprinted on tip-toe, trying to minimize the sound his footfalls made.

            Soon enough, he was down the hallway where Keith’s cell was. He spotted one guard posted at the door and straightened his back, approaching slowly, letting his arms hang at his side. The guard caught sight of him and stiffened.

            “What brings you here, Jeremy Ortega?”

            Lance looked around, then dropped his voice as he leaned closer to the guard. “I know you’re with the Blade of Marmora, and I know that’s the Red Paladin in this cell. I’m the friend he was covering for earlier. Lance McClain, Blue Paladin of Voltron.”

            Rivvin’s eyes widened. “W-What are you doing here?”

            “I came to see the Red Paladin,” Lance answered. “If the prince comes looking for me, I’m not here.”

            Rivvin nodded vigorously and stepped aside, opening the door to allow Lance in, and shutting it behind him. Lance shut off his mic, approaching Keith’s bed slowly.

            Keith looked like a hot mess. Cut and bruised and pale and bloody, staring at the ceiling, seemingly unaware that Lance was even in the room.

            “Keith,” Lance said softly. “Keith, I’m here.”

* * *

 

            Keith sat up slowly, aching body trying to rebel. He turned his microphone off, turned his head, and there he was: Lance. Standing over him. Healthy and not dead. Part of Keith thought this was some trap Lance was shielding him from, and immediately, he looked beyond Lance, trying to see if Lotor was standing behind him.

            “It’s just me,” Lance said, as though he knew what Keith was doing.

            “W-Why…?”

            “I haven’t had the chance to see you since Lotor tried to send you to the druids.”

            Lance sat down on the edge of the bed, next to Keith. Without thinking, Keith leaned into him, into his warmth. Someone familiar. Someone comfortable. Someone _safe._

            “It was just a few hours ago,” Keith found himself whispering.

            “I-I know,” Lance said. “But a lot’s happened. A-And…it’s not…not just that. You do know that now’s probably the best time to escape, right?”

            _Oh._

            “Right,” Keith said.

            He winced as he got to his feet, and Lance grabbed his arm to help steady him. “Can you make an escape in your condition?”

            “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Keith replied.

            Lance sighed. No. Keith didn’t, and they both knew it. At the same time, they switched on their microphones.

            “Shiro, Allura, Coran—what’ve we got?” Lance asked.

            _“Are you prepping for escape already?”_ Coran asked.

            “Yes we are,” Keith answered.

            _“Are you together?”_ Allura spoke up.

            “Yeah,” Lance said. “And we’ve got a clear way out, through the air ducts. We’re in Keith’s cell.”

            _“So here’s what we’ve got,”_ Shiro said. _“We have enough power to wormhole jump to your area, but we’re not going to make the jump right to his ship. That leaves us open to attack, which is what we’re trying to avoid. According to Hunk and Pidge, we should have enough power to give the wormhole a second go after you two get back in the Blue Lion, assuming we have a few minutes between jumps while you two fly in.”_

            “Seems simple enough,” Keith said.

            “Do we have a contingency plan in case something goes wrong?” Lance asked.

            _“Not…not at the moment,”_ Shiro admitted.

            _“What we don’t want to have to do is send in the other lions. If Keith is in trouble, though, Red will probably be after him before we can stop them,”_ Pidge explained. _“If we go in the other Lions, Lotor_ will _detect us, and then there will be a fight, and no one is really in the mood for one._ _”_

            _“Which is why Keith can’t be in danger. Lotor will know something is up if the Red Lion is suddenly after his ship, without a pilot,”_ Shiro added.

            “Wonder where Red was when I almost died in the arena,” Keith muttered.

            “Is that it, Shiro?” Lance asked.

            _“For now. How long do you think it’ll take to get from Keith’s cell to the Blue Lion?”_

            Keith shrugged—not that anyone on the receiving end of the communication could see. “I was up there for a little bit earlier, but I had to turn back around. Half a varga, maybe? A little less?”

            _“That’s when we’ll make the jump,”_ Allura cut in. _“From there, you’ll have to hurry.”_

            “Got it,” Keith and Lance said in sync.

            Lance looked up at the vent in the ceiling, while Keith went around the bed and took up the blade he’d stolen from the training deck and never returned.

            “How did you even get up there?” Lance asked.

            “Like this,” Keith said. With the blade, he wrenched open the vent grate. It fell the short distance into his hands, and he set it down on the ground. Then, he climbed onto his bed and jumped. At the same time, he angled the blade, so that it caught on the inside of the vent and gave him enough time to pull up.

            Except this time, he didn’t quite make it. With his body still in pain, Keith was too slow. The blade slid back, and Keith fell. His heel caught and twisted on the blanket, sending him sideways, off of the bed and toward the floor. Lance acted quickly and swooped in at the last second, catching Keith bridal-style before he could break his neck.

            “You got in like that?” Lance asked.

            Keith’s face flushed. “N-No. It worked when I did it earlier.”

            Lance helped Keith stand on his feet. Keith seemed ready to go ahead and give it another try, but Lance grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back.

            “What are you doing?” Keith asked, voice sharp.

            “You’re not trying that again. Here, give me a boost,” Lance said, climbing up onto Keith’s bed. Keith climbed on after him and cupped his hands, providing a wedge for Lance to step in.

            Lance stepped with one foot into Keith’s cupped hands, using the closest thing he could grab—Keith’s head—for balance.

            “Ow—Lance, you’re pulling on my hair!”

            “Sorry,” Lance said.

            Lance pulled himself into the vent. “Hand me your sword, Keith.”

            “Why?” Keith asked.

            Lance glared. “So it’s already up here so I can pull _you_ up here more easily?”

            Keith surrendered the blade. Lance took it and set it down just behind his foot, and then reached back down to help Keith up. Keith grit his teeth, trying to ignore the pain flaring up every time he so much as moved. Whatever the druids had done to heal him, it hadn’t been very helpful. They’d closed off his cuts—barely. The rib, they’d had to put back in place, so it wouldn’t get any worse, or do something like puncture his lung.

            Keith practically collapsed when he was finally in the air duct next to Lance.

            “You okay? Are you _sure_ you can do this?” Lance asked, gingerly placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder.

            Keith forced himself onto his knees. “I’m fine.”

            Lance looked skeptical but didn’t push it. He handed off the sword to Keith. “Lead the way.”

* * *

 

            The alarms started blaring the moment Lance and Keith dropped out of the vents in Blue’s open hangar. The two Paladins paid the alarms no mind as they rushed for Lance’s Lion.

            “Blue, open up,” Lance said, stopping right in front of her.

            Nothing happened.

            “Blue? Blue, come on, girl,” Lance said, looking over his shoulder.

            Blue’s jaw had just started to lower to the ground when Keith grabbed Lance by the arm and pointed toward the hangar door. It was opening, allowing a few Galra officers and a whole slew of robotic sentries to enter the room.

            At their helm stood Lotor.

            “For fuck’s sake,” Keith muttered. “Lance, play along. Shiro, we’ve got a problem.”

            Keith wrapped a hand around Lance’s mouth. He brought his other arm up, and held his sword against Lance’s neck. Lance stiffened in his grip, eyes purposefully seeking out Lotor.

            “Not one move!” Keith yelled. “Anyone move, and he’s dead!”

            Keith backed into Blue slowly, careful not to accidentally slit Lance’s throat. He stared down Lotor as he did. Lotor’s eyes blazed with fury, clenched fist tightening around the hilt of his sword. But then Lotor looked at Lance, and his face seemed to soften for just a moment. Not a single shot was fired as Blue’s mouth closed, and Keith let go of Lance.

            “Nice work,” Lance whispered, jumping into the pilot’s chair. “Blue, get us out of here.”

            Blue’s engine revved. Lance reached into the spot where he’d stashed the bayards earlier and handed Keith’s off to him.

            “I can’t believe that actually—” Keith started, only to be cut off by Blue jolting.

            Lance jerked his hand away from the controls.

            “What the hell?” Keith shouted. He and Lance peered out one of Blue’s windows.

            Haggar had entered the hangar, with a whole posse of her druids.

            “Oh no,” Keith whispered.

            “We’re leaving!” Lance said.

            “Make that jump, Allura!” Keith said, while Lance got back into the pilot’s seat. “The druids are here, and I’m not liking our odds of escape!”

            _“Roger,”_ Allura replied.

            Keith turned to Lance. “How did he know we were gone? And how did he know that we were going to the Blue Lion?”

            “I-I don’t know,” Lance said. “We don’t really have the time to think about that.”

            His fingers tightened around the controls. He thrust one hand forward, and Blue rocketed out of the hangar. Keith grabbed onto the back of Lance’s chair to steady himself, as he looked at the screens in front of them.

            “Lance, we’ve got—”

            “Yeah, I know!”

            Blue jerked hard left, evading an arcing bolt of Haggar’s purple lightning.

            “We need to get out of her range!” Keith said.

            Lance grit his teeth. “I’m getting there, Kogane!”

            Blue dove, to avoid a bolt coming over the top of them—only to run right into the path of another. Blue shuddered. Lance yelped and let go of the controls. The systems blinked in and out, blinked again, and then they were falling.

            Lance screamed.

            “Lance!”

            _“What’s going on?”_ Shiro shouted.

            “We’ve been hit and Lance started screaming, I don’t know, we don’t have control—”

            They took another hit.

            This time, on the other end of their communication, Allura started screaming. Lance only screamed louder, tumbling out of the pilot’s seat as Blue rolled, without anyone able to control her. Keith caught him, and the weight of Lance crashing into his arms sent them both to the floor. Keith saw now that his eyes were wide open, seeing without seeing. He clawed at Keith, looking for anything to hold onto.

            “I’m here, Lance, I’m right here,” Keith said, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

            Blue stopped moving.

            Then started moving backwards.

            Keith raised his chin, peered out the window in time to see a tractor beam around them, pulling them back in.

            _“The plan,”_ Shiro said. _“Keith, tell me they didn’t just execute their plan.”_

            Keith looked at Lance, who looked at him without seeing him. Like he was somewhere else entirely. Keith shut his eyes, swallowed the lump in his throat. “Sh-Shiro, that was just meant to be the test.”

            _“Call it a successful one,”_ Pidge said. _“Allura is down, and Coran can’t get the ship to make the jump. Our tech is down.”_

            “We’re being pulled back in by a tractor beam and have no way out of here,” Keith said. “Lance is out of commission. Blue is shot.”

            Pidge swore.

            “I’ll hold us down for as long as we can,” Keith promised. “But we’re gonna need extraction as soon as possible.”

            _“Roger,”_ Pidge said.

            Keith listened to the breakdown of the castle, the chaos that started with Shiro and Coran trying to help Allura, only escalating with Pidge and Hunk taking over control of the mission to recover Lance and Keith. It was a distraction from having to see Lance like this.

            Blue took one last hit in the tractor beam.

            Lance shrieked, back arching in pain.

            Keith’s chest clenched.

            “Keith, Keith! KEITH!”

            “Lance, I’m right here, talk to me,” Keith said, voice wavering.

            “Keith, they’re in my head, don’t let them—”

            Whatever else Lance wanted to say died in his throat as his eyes glazed over. Keith forgot how to breathe as Lance went rigid in his arms.

            “Lance? Lance, come on! Lance!”

            Lance twitched.

            And then his hand shot out, fingers locking around Keith’s throat.


	8. The One in Which Lotor is Vindictive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished writing this at 4:06 AM on ~5 hours of sleep I am playing a dangerous game

Chapter 8

            The Red Paladin wasn’t dead.

            That much was evident when he emerged from the Blue Lion’s mouth in the Blue Paladin’s arms, bayard hanging uselessly at the Blue Paladin’s side, just out of his reach. Lotor stalked toward the pair of them, two Paladins who thought they could fool him and get away with it. It had seemed strange, but not _impossible_ , of course, that someone related to the Black Paladin could be so hotheaded and reckless. Now Lotor understood. He tilted his head at them, and the Red Paladin scowled.

            And yet, the hothead could not make himself spit some remark.

            “Keith, Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Shiro, Allura, and Coran. How nice it is to finally know the names of every member of Team Voltron. Funny, though—here I was, under the impression that this _Keith_ had died a few days ago, the last time I had the displeasure of going up against your robot,” Lotor spoke. “Here I was, under the impression that _your name_ was supposed to be _Ryou Takashi._ And _his name_ was supposed to be _Jeremy Ortega_.”

            The Red Paladin, Keith, grit his teeth. Still didn’t deign to make a remark. Funny how that worked, how he had nothing to say, now that his identity was out in the open. Lotor’s eyes slid to Keith’s wrist, jumped to his ear, moved to his face. He seemed to understand at once, and started struggling in the Blue Paladin’s grip. Lotor raised his sword to Keith’s neck, and he went slack, staring down the blade, realizing that this time, he really didn’t have any means of escape.

            “Communicator cuffs. Earpieces. These are new. I take it this was the work of the Green Paladin? The Green Lion chooses the inquisitive one. Inquisitive people are generally crafty,” Lotor said, and reached for Keith’s ear, ripping out the earpiece. He placed it in his own ear, and announced, quite loudly, “Hello, Team Voltron!”

            _“Lotor!”_

            It sounded like the Black Paladin, Shiro. The Champion.

            “Hello, Champion,” Lotor said. “How are things aboard the castleship? I trust Allura is well.”

            _“Fuck you,”_ came a voice, much-higher pitched than any other Lotor had heard. This was the one Keith had been calling “Pidge.”

            Lotor decided to ignore this one.

            “Team Voltron,  I would like to arrange a transmission in, oh, ten dobashes or so. Face-to-face, of course. After all, this may be the last time you see the Red Paladin alive.”

* * *

 

            _This may be the last time you see the Red Paladin alive._

            The words tormented Keith for the roughly ten minutes between Lotor taking his earpiece. He’d left Keith with the communicator _cuff,_ although Keith wasn’t sure why. Negligence was out of the question. He had one theory, a sick theory that he didn’t want to think about, so instead, he thought about Lance.

            Lance had become lost to him on Blue. Once Haggar had her energy, she’d gotten Lance, too. He’d tried to crush his neck, he’d tried to knock Keith out by bashing his head against the wall. Neither of those things managed to kill Keith, but they did stun him for long enough for Lance to steal his bayard. Pidge, Shiro, and Hunk had encouraged him to fight back, to get Lance knocked out.

            Keith couldn’t bring himself to do it.

            He’d spent the rest of the time the Blue Lion was in the tractor beam playing defense, trying to keep Lance from killing him. There had been murder in the Blue Paladin’s eyes. Keith had suffered a day of beatings and sneaking around this ship to make sure Lance had someone here to watch over him—even though, Keith admitted to himself, Lance had watched over Keith more than Keith watched over him—and now he was paying the price for it.

            “Look alive, Keith,” Lotor said, coming to stand next to him and Lance, all ready and fired up for the transmission. “After all, this is probably the last time you will have the chance.”

            Keith might’ve given Lotor a response, if he’d had the energy. He was too tired for this, still suffering the affects of the arena, of fighting off Lance, of the lack of sleep. He kept his mouth shut as the screens in front of them came to life. At once, Keith could see the chaos that he’d heard over the communications. Shiro clearly wasn’t prepared, or even aware that a transmission was incoming. He was too busy tending to Allura, consulting Coran over what to do with her.

            Hunk was hard at work in his seat on the bridge, tapping away at a screen too blurry at this distance for Keith to see the details of. It was Pidge who stood in the center of the screen, looking much more frazzled than usual.

            “Oh, joy. The small one. I take it that _you_ are Pidge,” Lotor said.

            _“What’s the purpose of this transmission, Lotor?”_ Pidge demanded.

            Lotor clasped his hands behind his back and took a step in front of Keith and Lance. “Well, as you can plainly tell, I have captured two of your Paladins, and I am just _dreadfully_ stuck with what to do with them.”

            Lotor purposefully looked between the two of them, and then called to the guards standing posted at the back of the room, “Separate them. I cannot have them standing together when I give this next order.”

            The guards obeyed. One wrenched Keith from Lance’s arms, while Lance didn’t put up a fight. Keith studied him helplessly; Lance looked dead, as if there was nothing behind his eyes. No spark. No mischief. Just a robot waiting for orders.

            Keith’s gut twisted.

            “Haggar,” Lotor spoke into a communicator of his own, “I do not believe we need to control the Blue Paladin anymore. Let him go.”

            At once, Lance slumped over, unconscious, in the arms of the guard holding him.

            “Lance!” Keith shouted, instincts kicking in, trying futilely to break away from his guard.

            “As you can see,” Lotor started, talking over Keith, “I have within my grasp the Blue Lion. Its quintessence belongs to my empire, and by extension, so does the life of the Blue Paladin. The longer he remains out of my control—the state in which he is _now—_ the longer his bond with the Blue Lion poisons him. Eventually, it _could_ end his life. And what a shame, to lose such a beautiful Paladin—”

            “Don’t talk about him like that,” Keith snapped.

            “And, of course, you will also notice I have the Red Paladin. Unfortunately, he _is_ rather difficult to ignore. As I believed before that he was dead, I really have no use for keeping him alive,” Lotor said. “So I have a proposition for the legendary Team Voltron. You hand over the rest of the Lions in _two days._ If you do so, then I can have the druids find a workaround to the poisoning. The Lions will remain ours, but their Paladins will live, uncontrolled and free to do as they please. I will even give back the Red Paladin. _Fail_ to deliver the rest of the Lions, and I will kill the Red Paladin without hesitation, and I will also keep the Blue Paladin for myself. And, of course, there will be no workaround discovered for the poisoning, which, if I am not _mistaken_ _…also_ jeopardizes the life of Princess Allura, does it not?”      

            _“You’re sick,”_ Pidge said.

            “It is _not_ as bad as it could be, dear Pidge. I _could_ make the jump to your ship _right now_ and completely obliterate it, killing all of you and taking the Lions for my own. Instead, here I am, openly negotiating a chance to avoid the needless waste of life,” Lotor said. “With the lives of your friends at stake, I do hope you will make the right decision. Of course, for their sake, I _also_ hope you will not be the lone decision-maker.”

            _“If you really cared for their sake, they would be back with us at the castle, and this whole thing wouldn’t be an issue,”_ Pidge retorted.

            “Why does insolence appear to be a mark of the Paladins?” Lotor asked, shaking his head.

            He turned and approached Keith with his sword, pausing once to glance over his shoulder at Pidge. “Consider this _Ryou_ _’s_ second day of punishment, delivered a little early. Or perhaps, we could even call this a bonus.”

            Lotor ordered the guard to hold Keith absolutely still.

            “Get away from me,” Keith growled.

            “Or what? You will kill me for this? Seems likely,” Lotor replied.

            Lotor plunged the sword into Keith’s leg.

            The scream tore from Keith’s throat before he could stop himself. Next to him, Lance stirred, mumbling something unintelligible. Pidge swore, while Shiro cried out in the background. Lotor laughed at the sight of it all, yanking the sword out, not bothering to wipe the blood from it before sheathing it.

            “Have fun trying to escape now,” Lotor said. “All of these injuries piling up…you will not be doing yourself any favors trying to get away. It will not serve you well to make things worse. Guards, take them to the cells. Make sure there are no air ducts for them to crawl around in.”

            Lotor looked between the two of them, smile widening. “And, you know what else? I think I will be _generous_ and allow them to share a cell. They have spent enough time running around separated, do you not agree? Oh, and make sure to take the earpiece away from the Blue One. It will not serve us well to have him in communication with the Castle of Lions.”

            The guards muttered their acceptance of their commands and began hauling Keith and Lance off, while Lotor remained, to continue speaking to the other members of Team Voltron. Keith staggered and limped his way to the cells, trying his best to keep up with the demanding pulls of the guards. It was hard enough to do even when concentrating, but his mind kept drifting off. Why would Lotor let them share a cell? Did he really think they wouldn’t try and pull off another escape?

            They came upon the cell a lot sooner than expected, and Keith tripped over his own feet and fell into it, catching himself just before his face could hit the floor. The guards threw Lance right on top of him and shut the door, plunging them into darkness, except for the glow of a single purple light sphere in the center of the ceiling.

            This cell was a lot more cramped than Keith’s other one. The ceiling barely touched ten feet. The whole room itself was probably six feet by six feet—roughly five by five, really, if one counted the foot-long bench that ran all the way around the room.

            And, of course, there were no air ducts.

            Keith slowly moved Lance off of him, and sat up with his back to the bench, stretching his legs out. Then, he pulled Lance up onto his lap, letting the unconscious Paladin’s head rest on his shoulder.

            Keith had foggy memories of sitting in Blue like this, except Lance had been the conscious one, piloting his Lion, while Keith desperately clung to life in his lap, head on his shoulder, forehead brushing the crook of Lance’s neck. Then, Lance had been on his way to the castle, to get Keith in a cryopod to heal him up. Lance had been in much better shape than Keith was now.

            In this moment, they were both a mess, and neither of them were being healed any time soon.

            “This is my fault, you know,” Keith murmured, shutting his eyes as he leaned his head back. “After the team meeting, when I was gearing up to go, Shiro came to see me, to try and persuade me to let him go with you instead. Now that I think on it, that plan would’ve been so much better. Shiro had the experience. You could’ve just said you brought Lotor the Black Paladin. But I refused to listen. I told him I had to be the one to go. It wasn’t because I needed to prove anything to anyone. Not to show off my strength. Not even to show you up in some big final battle, even though you probably don’t believe that.”

            Keith laughed bitterly. “I explained it all to him, and he said it was a bad idea. I should’ve listened to him. It’s my fault we’re stuck here. I couldn’t stay in one spot and just play along. I had to sneak around. I had to get my butt kicked in the arena fight. I had to keep mouthing off and getting hurt. Shiro would’ve made a much better fake prisoner. He has the leadership skill and the experience. He saw this as a mission and nothing else.”

            Keith blinked, trying to clear his eyes; silent tears rolled down his cheeks. He sucked in a shaking breath, and kept going. “This was never _just_ a mission for me, Lance. This was never _just_ about getting information on the Galra. From the moment I heard you were just going to throw yourself right into the middle of the Empire, right to Lotor…I needed to go on this mission to make sure _you_ were okay, because… _fucking hell._ ”

            “Stop b-beatin’ ‘round the bush…,” Lance slurred into Keith’s shoulder, startling Keith so much that Keith jumped. “Jus’ say you like me an’ stop torturing yourself…”

            “W-What?” Keith asked. “How long have you _actually_ been listening?!”

            “Long ‘nough…”

            Keith’s face burned. “I-I—”

            “Clueless…”

            Lance started to laugh lightly, only for the laugh to turn into a coughing fit. Keith sat up straighter, putting a hand on Lance’s back as he tried to sit _him_ up straighter. Lance dragged a sleeve across his mouth, and then let his arm fall back limply into his lap.

            “Most of us…figured’t out…when Sh-Shiro left…Red needed someone an’ _you chose me_ _…_ mission after mission… _I_ _’m with Lance._ ”

            “S-Stop that,” Keith said. “Then how come—”

            “I tried…you thought…teasing…”

            _Quiznak._

            Keith fell silent, and Lance didn’t even try to keep the conversation going. Lance instead got more comfortable resting against Keith, while Keith wrapped one arm around him.

            “I won’t let you die,” Keith whispered.

            “You too…,” Lance mumbled.

            “We’ll get out of here.”

            “Mm-hmm.”

* * *

 

            This transmission was going on way too long.

            Lotor had started rambling at some point, while Lance and Keith got dragged off to their cell. Shiro made Pidge stand there and listen the whole time—every time she turned around, about to ask if they could just shut this thing down and help Hunk find a way to covertly rescue Keith and Lance, he shook his head in a silent order to stand there and keep listening.

            _“Oh, what is_ this? _”_ Lotor finally said, cutting off his own discussion about the superiority of Galra tech—or something, Pidge hadn’t quite been paying attention.

            She turned to look at Shiro again. Sure enough, he was giving her a pointed look, like, _I told you so._

            _“Oh…OH, this is_ most _interesting_ _…it seems your fellow Paladins have forgotten to turn off their communicator cuffs,”_ Lotor said. _“It seems that they have admitted to liking each other. How sweet,”_ Lotor said.

            “Now? Really?” Pidge whisper-shouted over her shoulder.

            Not like Lotor couldn’t hear her.

            _“Well, this raises the stakes now, does it not?”_ Lotor said. _“I can only imagine the day that Lance succumbs to the poison. Maybe I will keep Keith alive just long enough to see that happen, and then I will kill him, too. Unless, of course, you bring me Voltron…”_

            “Go to hell,” Pidge replied.

            _“Now, that is not very nice of you, is it?”_ Lotor said, tilting his head.

            If the guy did one more head tilt, Pidge was going to reach through the castle screen and strangle him.

            _“And now it seems as though Keith has just promised Lance that he would not let him die, and that they would_ surely _make an escape. Do you not love false promises? I know I do,_ _”_ Lotor said.

            “Is there any point to us talking anymore?” Pidge interrupted Lotor’s train of thought.

            Lotor stroked his chin. _“Mmm, I suppose not. I am afraid the longer we talk, the more of my plans I may accidentally reveal to you. Wonderful catch…you look like you are the Green Paladin. Wonderful catch, Green Paladin. We will be in touch soon. Hopefully, on my ship, with Voltron present.”_

            Lotor cut off the transmission, plunging the Castle of Lions into tense silence. Pidge turned around slowly. Shiro’s face was stricken, as he glanced between Pidge and Allura, and then Hunk and Coran. Pidge had rarely ever seen Shiro at a loss of words, unsure of what direction to send his team in.

            “They don’t have a way off that ship,” Pidge said. “Blue’s quintessence is corrupted. Allura’s poisoned. Lance is poisoned _and_ susceptible to mind control. Keith is injured and is _with Lance,_ and we can’t just _bring_ Lotor Voltron. He’ll bring the galaxy to its knees.”

            “I think I have an idea,” Hunk said.

            “Shoot,” Shiro said. “Pidge, is that microphone off?”

            “It’s been off ever since that purple asshole got a hold of Keith’s earpiece,” Pidge replied.

            Shiro nodded toward Hunk.

            “Okay, so remember how one of Keith’s guards was with the Blade of Marmora? Has Lotor like…mentioned him? At all? Does he even suspect the guy?”

            “Not that we’re aware of,” Shiro said.

            “Good. That got me thinking, if that random guard is part of the Blade, how many others are on that ship? And is there any way we can send another member of the Blade to get into contact with them? And bust Lance and Keith and Blue out for us? That way, none of us have to set foot on that ship _or_ risk our Lions,” Hunk explained.

            “I don’t know,” Shiro said. “I don’t know how long it’s going to take to send a member of the Blade to the ship. We have two days.”

            Pidge stared at the floor, eyes narrowed.

            “Pidge, you got anything?” Shiro asked.

            “I’m thinking…if we can’t get the Blade, one of us has to go, right? We don’t need to take a Lion. It won’t take me very long to rig up a cloaking device to one of the shuttles. I’m small enough to sneak on—”

            “No,” Shiro interrupted. “If anyone goes, it’s me.”

            “Shiro,” Pidge said, voice as calm as she could manage. “We went over this with Keith. Lotor knows your face. Lotor wanted to fight _you_ in the arena. Your mind has already been touched by Zarkon, anything you see there could send you into a flashback, and we’re running low on time. Need I remind you that the one time we almost _lost the whole castle,_ _I_ was the only reason we managed to save it?”

            “Lance and Keith are already lost to us, and I’ve lost two Holts before. I don’t want to make it three,” Shiro said, voice hard.

            Pidge stopped.

            “Shiro, I…”

            “Um, can I say something here?” Hunk interrupted, raising his hand. “Look, I know you’re not comfortable with sending Pidge in, but she’s listed some pretty valid points that we’ve, um, oh yeah, _listed before._ Also, we sent Keith in there based on him being emotional. _You_ _’re_ being pretty emotional right now, whereas Pidge has a pretty solid plan for getting in.”

            “How about the rescue and then getting out?” Shiro asked.

            “I haven’t gotten that far,” Pidge admitted. “We’ll need to take down Haggar and restore the quintessence of the Blue Lion, obviously, but Allura…”

            Pidge trailed off, gaze settling on the Altean princess in Shiro’s arms.

            “Hunk,” Shiro said.

            Hunk sat up straighter.

            “Get into contact with a member of the Blade. Right now. Pidge…” Shiro sucked in a breath. “…start rigging the cloaking device. Coran, help me get Allura into a cryopod.”


	9. The One in Which Insecurities Are Poked At

Chapter 9

            The span of time between being on board Blue in the attempted escape and being back on Lotor’s ship, held up by a guard, would be burned into Lance’s mind forever. Haggar’s lightning had washed over Blue and pulled at the core of her quintessence. In that same moment, it was as though lightning had sparked through Lance’s veins, frying him from the inside out. If his mind was a ship, then he had been wrestled away from the controls, bound and gagged as Haggar and the druids took control. There was nothing he could do to prevent himself from hurting Keith, from trying to choke him out, from slamming his head into the metal side of the cockpit, from threatening to blast him to smithereens if he so much as lifted another finger.

            The whole time, he’d tried to wriggle his way out of those mental binds, take the gag off, win back control of his own actions, all to no avail. When Lotor ordered his mind released, it was as though he exploded out of his binds, with nothing to catch his fall. His blood was on fire, his head was pounding. Something had been happening to him in that moment, the sheer force of it enough to bring him to the brink of unconsciousness. Keith’s screaming had been a rock in still water—enough to disturb him, not enough to drag him to the surface. It wasn’t until he was thrown into the cell with Keith, when Keith started beating himself up over everything, tiptoeing around the very obvious fact that he _liked_ Lance, that Lance had had enough. Enough of drowning. Enough of listening to Keith, drowning himself in his sorrows.

            Lance had dragged himself to the surface long enough to give Keith the reassurance he needed, long enough for Lance to get the reassurance _he_ needed, long enough for both of them to know the true feelings of the other. And then the pain had crashed like a wave over his head, and he fell back under, listening to the erratic rhythm of Keith’s heart.

            When he resurfaced this time, it was because of the cell door opening.

            Lance squinted at the sudden flooding of light into the tiny cell, broken up by the dark outline of a bulky man. Underneath him, Keith went rigid. The arm he’d been keeping around Lance tightened, fingers gripping Lance’s bicep like a lifeline. His other arm closed the circle. Lance dragged his gaze away from whoever’d entered the cell and over to Keith’s face; Keith’s mouth had twitched into a snarl, his eyes challenging whoever it was in the doorway to just _try_ and pry them apart, and see what would happen.

            “Relax, Red Paladin,” the person at the door ordered. They stepped into the room; the purple glow from the ceiling illuminated the face of a Galran guard. “I am not here for the Blue Paladin. I am here for _you._ ”

            Lance’s brain picked apart the words one at a time, still trying to get back to full thinking capacity. Slowly, he came to the realization that in order for the guard to take Keith away—likely to Haggar and the druids for interrogation, hopefully not an early execution—Lance would need to get off of him. He tested his limbs one by one, and each one felt as though it were on fire as he tried to move it. He powered through anyway, trying to work his way out of Keith’s grip, trying to at least roll off of him and over to the side. No more force. No more violence.

            “I’m not going anywhere,” Keith said, tipping his chin, trying to keep Lance within his grasp.

            “Keith, don’t,” Lance whispered. “It’s not worth it. It’ll just make things worse.”

            Keith’s face softened as he dropped his gaze from the guard to Lance, tired eyes insistent. But then he lifted his eyes again, back to the guard, and the softness vanished just as quickly as it came as Keith rose to his feet, letting go of Lance. Lance painstakingly drew himself into a better sitting position, watching the guard pin Keith’s arms behind his back and usher him out of the room. Keith didn’t bother with another look over his bunched shoulders, resigning himself to whatever was about to happen, not willing to prolong any suffering.

            Lance watched him go, watched the guard haul him off, watched the door shut.

            Without Keith here, without any way to get into contact with him, a way to keep in constant reach of each other, the fatigue settled heavily on Lance’s shoulders, threatening to crush him beneath its weight. He could only imagine Keith felt as badly. But if Keith would keep going, if he would have to stand up to whatever was going to be thrown at him, then so would Lance. He refused to slip, refused to be sent back into that darkness again. Not while he was alone.

            No communications from Keith or the castle to reassure him that he was fine. No guarantee that the people on board this ship could not harm him. No way to guarantee that he’d wake up if he let go. No way to guarantee his mind would remain his own—that one ate at him the most. At any moment, Lotor could give the order to Haggar, and he would not be Lance McClain.

            He would just be another puppet to the Galra Empire.

* * *

 

            Coran found Shiro in the med bay after roughly half a varga of searching, sitting cross-legged in front of Allura’s pod. One of his elbows rested on his leg, his entire body tilted to that side. He rested his head in his propped-up hand. As Coran approached, he heard soft snoring, saw Shiro’s shoulders slowly rising and falling. In his exhaustion, the Black Paladin had fallen asleep.

            Coran knew about Shiro’s lack of sleep, and that made rousing him all the more painful.

            “Shiro,” Coran said softly, coming up behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

            Coran leapt back as Shiro jerked violently out of his sleep, bionic arm glowing purple. Shiro was on his feet in less than a second, arm aimed in Coran’s general direction before he realized who it was. He dropped his arm back to his side, purple glow fading. He dragged his human hand down his face, trying to wipe away any evidence that he’d even been asleep.

            “Sorry, Coran,” he muttered. “What did you need?”

            “Stressful times, Shiro. I know. I came to tell you that something was going on with Keith. It appears he and Lance still don’t know that they’ve left their communicator cuffs on, and Keith was being questioned by Lotor and the druids. From what we’d heard up on the bridge, it didn’t sound like it was going well for him,” Coran explained. “I’ve spent half a varga looking for you, so I don’t know if they still have him, or if they’ve released him back to his cell.”

            Coran watched the shift in Shiro’s face, watched the exhaustion change to helplessness, and then to something else that Coran couldn’t give a name to. Somewhere between horror and determination, if such a spectrum even existed.

            “Tell Pidge to rig up a second shuttle with a cloaking device.”

* * *

 

            Lotor showed up almost every place Keith didn’t want him to, so it was no surprise when Keith entered the interrogation room and saw Lotor standing in the center of the room, arms crossed, eyes dark. Any aloof demeanor was gone. Keith supposed that after being played for an entire day by him and Lance, Lotor had a right to be angry. Not a huge one—the Galra were still trying to tear apart the universe, under his command—but a right nonetheless.

            “Any snide remarks for me, Red Paladin?” Lotor asked.

            “Not yet, but I’m sure I’ll think of one soon,” Keith replied, glaring as his guard pushed him past Lotor, over to a vertical slab. The guard shoved Keith against the slab back-first, raising his arms to the sides of his head. Cuffs clamped down his wrists and ankles, locking him into place, preventing him from fighting back—not that he really could in the first place. No armor. No weapons. No backup.

            “Allow me to make myself clear, _Keith,_ ” Lotor said. “Things will go by much more smoothly if you put up as little resistance as possible, and answer our questions as honestly and thoroughly as you can. There _will_ be consequences for insolence—and perhaps _you_ will not be on the receiving end. There is a certain Blue Paladin waiting around in a cell who could suffer for your actions. And I am _sure_ that you of all people would like to see him unharmed.”

            In that moment, the blood seemed to drain from Keith’s face.

            “H-How—”

            “It seems that, in the commotion of your escape, and your subsequent recapture, you have forgotten to turn off that communicator cuff of yours,” Lotor pointed out, grinning smugly. “Fret not. The Blue Paladin has made the same mistake. So, now, with the thought of being careful in mind, I’m sure you understand how open and honest with us you must be. For, with just a whisper from Haggar or any other druid, I have the ability to make your lives waking nightmares. And, if you find yourself thinking that your life is _already_ equivalent to a waking nightmare, then know that up until this point, I have shown _much_ restraint in my actions.”

            Lotor turned to Haggar.

            “I would like a preliminary search of his mind. Just a brief look.”

            Keith’s heart beat faster in his chest, mind still trying to process everything when Haggar stepped forward, reaching one hand out, lightning crackling at her fingertips. The lightning never touched Keith, but he knew the moment she entered his mind, like a curtain being brushed aside to let someone through. Haggar was barely there ten seconds before drawing herself out, eyes opening, lightning arcing from her hands and hitting Keith straight in the chest.

            Keith screamed, back arching as lightning pulsed through him. He sagged down in his restraints when Haggar withdrew the attack, turning to Lotor. “I’ve found something almost _insulting._ ”

            “That _is_ normal with this one,” Lotor said, “but go on.”

            “This boy has Galran blood.”

            “ _Oh?_ ”

            _Fuck._

            Keith panted, watching Lotor warily as Lotor took deliberately slow steps toward him.

            “Galran blood, you said?” Lotor asked, never once turning around. “This…is interesting. His physical appearance bears no resemblance to us. Here, he has had me fooled this _entire_ time into thinking he was fully human.”

            Lotor drew his favored knife from its sheath on his belt.

            “Have you known of this?” Lotor asked Keith.

            “…Yes,” Keith answered, eying the blade.

            He didn’t want to deal with this knife again. The scar across his nose seemed to flare with pain at just the mere presence of the knife that created it.

            “How long?”

            “I don’t know, a few months?”

            “Are your fellow Paladins aware of this?”

            “Of course they are.”

            Lotor raised his eyebrows. “I take it not all of them reacted…favorably.”

            Where was this even _going?_ Keith expected questions about Voltron, not about his past—a past he’d just finished reburying and didn’t feel like digging back up.

            “How they reacted doesn’t matter,” Keith said slowly, trying to keep patient. “They’ve come to terms with it, and it’s behind us.”

            “Is there something you do not feel like talking about, Red Paladin?” Lotor asked, twirling his knife in his hands. “Is it because you finally let people in, and they became afraid of _what you are?_ Maybe it was not the first time it had happened. You thought you could start over and be accepted somewhere, but your demons just could not leave you alone.”

            At this point, Keith was _grateful_ Lance had had his earpiece taken away, so he didn’t have to hear this and be any more worried about Keith than he already was.

            “How is this relevant to anything?” Keith asked.

            “It is just _interesting,_ is all,” Lotor answered. “Funny, really. You and the Blue Paladin snuck on my ship with me believing that the Blue One had the Galra ties, and all you were meant to be was the Black Paladin’s fully human brother, nothing but a pest we could hold over Team Voltron’s head. Now? Now, we have a Paladin with Galran blood on a Galran ship, and a Paladin my druids could command at any time. Perhaps I will not kill you, Red Paladin. Perhaps you could be of use to us. I _have_ studied you in battle. With a few tweaks to your technique, and some… _discipline training,_ you could be one of our greatest assets. Not to mention, your… _partnership_ with the Blue Paladin _could_ make you two a lethal team.”

            Keith bit his tongue. Lotor continually switched up plans without a second thought to the previous one. In another hour, there was a chance Lotor would decide that no, Keith was too temperamental, and it was absolutely necessary for him to die. There was no way Lance would forgive him if he died because he couldn’t keep it together for more than five minutes.

            “Of course,” Lotor went on, eyes drifting thoughtfully toward the ceiling, “that Blue Paladin is charming. And this new revelation that you two…well…it does not please me. And gives me good reason to end your life right here.”

            Quicker than Keith could blink, Lotor had the tip of his knife resting against the space just below his eye. Keith tried to make himself relax, make this less painful than it had to be, as Lotor pressed down, dragging the tip of the knife down his face. Not hard enough to leave a scar, not like last time, but hard enough to draw blood, a thin red line all the way down to his jaw.

            Lotor smiled at the sight.

            “Unfortunately—” he said, drawing the knife back, and then plunging it into Keith’s right hand.

            He ripped it out, and Keith swallowed back the screams trying to claw their way out of his throat.

            “—I told—”

            A slash across his other arm.

            “—Team Voltron—”

            His left knee.

            “—that I would—”

            Across his side, reopening his cut from the arena.

            “—leave you alive—”

            Collarbone.

            “—for the next two of your Earth days.”

            Other hand.

            This time, he left the knife embedded there. Keith’s breathing went shallow, and his eyes burned with tears he refused to shed. He tried to blink them away as Lotor forced his chin up, so that he could look Keith in the eyes.

            “Pride,” Lotor said, and cocked his head to the side. “You hide your feelings so you can remain in control of your reputation at all times. You attacked my father without another Paladin for backup and nearly died because of your actions. Even in the temporary period where you became the Black Paladin, any insult to you, or to your dear fake brother, set you off. And now you refuse to cry out, even though you are in _obvious_ pain.”

            Lotor ripped the blade from Keith’s hand, and still, he only grunted, killing the scream in his throat.

            “You do not like appearing weak, and _that_ is your weakness.”

            Lotor turned his back to Keith and started pacing. Keith barely paid him mind; his body was on fire, darkness was threatening to steal his vision from him, and noises were failing to register, save for the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

            “The Blue Paladin has inferiority issues,” Lotor said. “The look on his face when I pegged that one…he looked as though someone were finally opening his eyes. He was wide open. I should have taken my chance right then. I could have twisted the knife deeper. I could have cleaved Team Voltron in half right then and there. My, how I regret it.”

            Lotor turned back to face Keith.

            “Are you even listening anymore?”

            Of course he was. If he wasn’t weak at the moment, if he didn’t feel like death had made a new home under his skin, he would have been tearing Lotor a new one. _Nobody_ talked about Lance. Especially not in the way Lotor was.

            “Haggar,” Lotor said, mouth quirking into a smile, “I think we are losing him. Please remind him of where he is.”

            This time, the lightning touched him, and this time, he couldn’t stop the screams. Was this how Lance felt when the lightning hit Blue? Lance must’ve had it worse, Keith thought, as each of his senses began failing him. Haggar was just toying around with Keith’s body, whereas with Lance, she’d touched his quintessence—poisoned his very soul.

            “Oh, dear.”

            Keith’s ears were the only things still working, but even those weren’t doing that great of a job.

            “It appears we have gone too far, and the interrogation has barely started.”

            Everything Lotor said was muffled, like Keith was five miles underwater. He could hardly register the footsteps in the room, people moving around, moving away from him, and the last thing he heard was the sound of the door shutting, as the room plunged into silence, and Keith was left alone.

* * *

 

            It took the better part of an hour for Hunk to finally get into contact with Kolivan and a couple other members of the Blade. He’d been hoping, going into the conversation, that the Blade could do most of the legwork for them, seeing as Voltron was down two Paladins, and sending more Paladins right to Lotor seemed counterproductive, but it became clear right away that the Blade was already spread thin, and they could only do the bare minimum: contacting their members already aboard the ship and providing a distraction.

            Which meant other Paladins had to go in.

            Pidge had stood by Hunk’s side through the whole thing, saying nothing, face becoming stonier every second. While this had all been going down, in the background, they’d been listening to Keith’s interrogation by Lotor. Now, all they could hear was his labored breathing, contrasted against Lance’s, which was only slightly better.

            “Looks like you’re going in there, Pidge,” Hunk said, at the same moment Shiro appeared on the bridge. Hunk spun around in his seat at the same time Pidge turned on her heel.

            “You missed the first part of the interrogation,” Pidge announced.

            Shiro’s brow furrowed. “First part?”

            Hunk winced. “Yeah, they, uh—he…”

            “They were hurting Keith,” Pidge said. “He passed out, so instead of bringing him back to his cell, they left him wherever they were interrogating him, and they’re probably gonna come back later.”

            Shiro opened his mouth, but Hunk put a hand up. “Before you say anything, I talked to the Blade. They’ve got their own issues with the Galra in other parts of the universe right now. I talked to Kolivan, and he said all they can really do is get into contact with members of the Blade that are already on Lotor’s ship, so that they can create some kind of distraction while we send someone in.”

            Shiro froze, trying to process everything Hunk had just told him. His eyes went to Pidge.

            “So you’re going.”

            “Don’t even try and stop me, Shiro,” Pidge replied.

            “I’m not going to. I take it Coran didn’t make it back to tell you yet.”

            “Tell me what?”

            “I need you to rig up a second shuttle with a cloaking device. I’m going in, too. I have to.”

            “Shiro,” Pidge started, only for Shiro to mimic Hunk’s motion only a second before, and hold up a hand. Pidge glared, pointedly shoving her glasses up her nose. “Why?”

            “Those shuttles hold maybe three people maximum. You’re not going without cover, and we need to bring Keith _and_ Lance back,” Shiro explained.

            “Someone’s gonna have to get into Blue and get Blue out, too,” Hunk spoke up. “If Pidge goes alone, she’ll only need to bring one of them back.”

            “Backup,” Shiro repeated.

            Hunk stood up, pushing his chair back. “If you two are going on this mission, then I am, too.”

            The doors to the bridge opened again, and Coran walked in, looking harried. “Pidge! There you—oh, Shiro. Did you…?”

            “Yes, I told Pidge.”

            “I’m not happy about it, but I’ll do it,” Pidge said.

            She broke away from the group and headed off the bridge, to get to work on rigging up the cloaking device, leaving the others on the bridge.

            “Coran, we’ve got news,” Shiro said, swinging his gaze to the red-haired man. “We’ve got a plan…sort of.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, since it's 12:56 AM, it's already the 4th of July, so between having to have social interaction and being aggressively American, I'm not sure when I'll be working on chapter 10. It'll be up soon enough?


	10. The One in Which Lotor Can't Settle on One Plan (Please Make Up Your Mind)

Chapter 10

            “Your Highness, if you don’t allow us to heal him even the _slightest,_ he will die before the two Earth days are up. Then we have no one to hold over the Blue Paladin’s head.”

            Lotor had tuned Haggar out a long time ago as he swaggered through the corridors of his ship, blade casually swinging in his hand. She and the other druids and his advisers had all been getting on his case in the last few vargas, ever since Jeremy Ortega turned out to be a traitor, those stunning blue eyes set not on _him,_ but on—Lotor was horrified to entertain the thought more than he needed to—the _Red Paladin._ The Paladin that was supposed to be dead.

            Lotor had to own up to the fact that Jeremy Ortega— _not_ Jeremy Ortega, sorry, _Lance,_ the _Blue Paladin of Voltron,_ not the _former_ Blue Paladin—had lied to his face and dared to try and get away with it. This whole time, he had been feeding information to the Castle of Lions, and had been working to aid his prisoner in whatever way he could.

            “We thought him dead before,” Lotor said. “We could just _let_ him die and then tell the Castle of Lions that we killed him only moments prior to our transmission on the dawn of the second day.”

            “ _Prince Lotor,_ ” Haggar said, voice sharp, “you aren’t _listening._ This is not about the Castle of Lions. They will come to recover the Blue Lion regardless of whether the Paladins live. I am _saying,_ if you kill the Red Paladin now, I’m afraid the Blue Paladin will _snap completely,_ and will either die or be uncontrollable. There will be nothing to stop him from being reckless. He already believes he is expendable.”

            Lotor sighed, stopped walking, spun on his heel to turn and face Haggar. “Haggar, I _do_ hate it when you are right. Go on. Heal the Red Paladin—not too much, I still _do_ want him to be aware of what he is up against. Summon me when he is awake enough for more questioning.”

            Then Lotor turned back around and started to walk away again.

            “And just where do you think _you_ _’re_ going?” Haggar demanded.

            “You will see, very soon, that I am merely being _helpful._ We are going to remind the Red Paladin exactly what is at stake if he does not  answer our questions…and I think we shall show the Blue Paladin who he has to lose, as well. Besides himself, of course,” Lotor called, without even so much as turning around.

            Yes, a visit to the Blue Paladin was in order. A visit _alone,_ something Lotor hadn’t received from Jer— _Lance_ —since prior to his celebration dinner. Lotor’s blood boiled at that thought—that the Blue Paladin had been granted a celebratory dinner for nothing but pure treason. A dinner Lotor had been _excited_ for, a chance to one-up his father in style. A chance for him to one-up his father with one of the most beautiful people in the galaxy at his side.

            It had all been a lie from the start.

            _Keith._ Lotor hated the name, hated its owner, hated that he hadn’t even recognized him the day the Blue Paladin first brought him aboard—had it only been _yesterday?_ —when he’d been _right there_ on the battlefield, face at the Blue Paladin’s foot. No wonder the Blue Paladin had seemed so insistent on staying between them. He hadn’t been trying to claim a kill and finish him off. He’d been trying to protect him. He’d lied to protect him. And then when he came onto this ship, he’d continued the charade. No wonder. No wonder he’d asked Lotor to stop hurting him, time and time again. It was not at _all_ to preserve his physical health so that Lotor could bleed him dry in the arena.

            It was so they could both escape in one piece.

            _That is it._

            Lotor had made up his mind. He could give the two of them false hope for whatever living hell they wanted. He could fill their heads with the notion that they’d be controlled, they’d be putty in the palm of his hand, but at least they’d be alive and together, but _no._ Neither of them were leaving the ship. And the Red Paladin _certainly_ wouldn’t have the mercy of staying alive.

* * *

            Rigging up the cloaking device to her shuttle and Shiro’s shuttle took practically no time at all, and took no brainpower to do. Pidge let her mind wander as she worked, thinking through almost every aspect of Keith and Lance’s rescue that she possibly could. Two shuttles and three Paladins were leaving. Hunk and Pidge would probably take one, while Shiro took the other. Whoever found Keith could get off of Lotor’s ship almost right away, but whoever found Lance needed to then find the Blue Lion.

            Of course, there was also the matter of finding the red and blue bayards. Pidge had seen them on Lance in the transmission that’d come through, but then Lance had been hauled off with Keith—presumably, the bayards had been taken away. Things wouldn’t go well if the team was down their sharpshooter _and_ their swordsman.

            And then there was the matter of the distraction itself. Estimates from Kolivan placed the number of Blade members on board Lotor’s ship at no more than fifteen, and the ship was _massive._ Depending on what the distraction _was—_ the Paladins had never been told anything beyond that Kolivan would “work on it”—the Paladins wouldn’t have much time to get in, and then they had to be careful when roaming the halls. They didn’t have Lions to get back to; they had the shuttles before Pidge now, and they didn’t have nearly the firepower or the shielding that the Lions did. The only one they _did_ have was Blue, and Blue already had corrupted quintessence. Getting her to fly would be a challenge, and Pidge guessed that if anyone was going to try and help Lance fly Blue, it would be her.

            “Pidge! I need your help with something!”

            Pidge looked up as Hunk came running into the shuttle bay, waving around some kind of recording device from the ship. She raised her eyebrows in question, eyes darting to the recorder, then back to Hunk’s face. He took a deep breath, and then launched into his explanation:

            “Okay, so you know how Lotor has Lance and Keith’s earpieces, right?”

* * *

            Lance knew the outline in the doorframe too well, and recoiled as Lotor stepped into his cell, door sliding shut behind him. He watched carefully, noting every twitch Lotor made, eying the sheathed sword _and_ sheathed knife, the fresh blood on the edges of the sheaths, the blood stains on Lotor’s shirt and hands. And then the fact that Keith wasn’t back yet. Was Keith okay? Would Lance be able to sense it if Keith died?

            _Focus on keeping yourself safe._

            Wherever Keith was, he’d have to deal with his issues himself. Lance couldn’t reach him. Lance could hardly protect _himself_ at the moment. Whatever Haggar had done to him kept him weak. If he so much as tried to lash out at Lotor, there would be a chance he’d lose his autonomy, and he didn’t particularly feel like losing it.

            There was nothing in this cell he could use to defend himself—unless, of course, he _did_ do the irrational thing, like Keith probably would, and tried to steal one of Lotor’s blades. It was too cramped to put distance between himself and Lotor, though, and Lotor had the much better chance of stabbing Lance than Lance did of stabbing him. He needed distance. He needed his bayard, a gun much more comfortable in his hands than a sword or dagger, no contest.

            “W-What are you doing here?” Lance found himself rasping. His voice was shot, from the lightning burning his throat, and anything above a whisper sounded like sandpaper.

            Lotor smiled down at him, and Lance’s stomach roiled, the contents of the dinner just a few hours before threatening to make their way up.

            “We haven’t had the chance to properly get to know each other, Lance,” Lotor said. “I’ve gotten to know a completely fake person. I got to know a traitor to Voltron, who would aid me in bringing it down and reclaiming it for Galra. But I haven’t gotten to know you as the most underappreciated Paladin.”

            _Not this again._

            Lotor sat down on the bench running along the wall, and patted the spot next to him. “Why don’t you sit up here? I’m _certain_ that the way you’re sitting now is no good for your back.”

            Downplaying his pain would lead to Lotor overestimating how far he could push Lance, and Lance at least wanted a fighting chance to get out of here.

            “I can’t,” Lance whispered. “Hurts too much.”

            For dramatic effect, he tried, on the floor, to sit up straighter, only to wince and sink back down in pain. Lotor frowned at him, and then slowly sat down on the floor next to him.

            _Dammit._

            “If you had not fought against it, it would not have been as bad as it was, you know,” Lotor remarked. “Haggar said you were quite stubborn.”

            Lance didn’t respond. He didn’t shut his eyes and pretend to fall asleep like he wanted to, though. He needed to be alert and aware of everything happening around him. Instead, he stared straight ahead, at the door, hoping someone would come and get Lotor for something else, or that Lotor would just keep talking so that Lance could tune him out.

            “Was _everything_ you said a lie, Lance?”

            This was not the question nor the subject change that Lance had been hoping for. He couldn’t bring himself to look Lotor in the eye. Maybe, if he acted delirious, Lotor would get the point that Lance was not in the right state of mind to be talked to, and he’d just _leave._

            “No,” Lance whispered. “I didn’t lie about being nervous.”

            Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lotor’s face grow hopeful, and then, after a few more heartbeats, the look fell flat, as Lotor deciphered what he actually meant. He clenched his fists, unclenched them, stared at Lance, stared at the ceiling, back at Lance. Lance saw the way Lotor’s mouth suddenly turned up, the mischievous glint that entered his eye.

            Lance tensed.

            “Nervous. But not because of me. Is that a correct statement?”

            “Uh…well…no.”

            _You freak me out._

            Lotor was too close to him. Lance tried to scoot over, only to have Lotor’s hand shoot out and lock around his arm.

            “So then, Lance, what exactly _did_ make you nervous?”

            _You being with me 24/7. Your obsession with me. The idea that my cover would be blown and you_ _’d hurt me, or you’d hurt Keith. That the rest of the team would have to risk their necks for us because I did something wrong._

            “You are hesitating,” Lotor said.

            His grip on Lance’s arm turned crushing. Lance yelped, trying to wrench his arm away as pain flared through it, but Lotor held fast, twisting Lance’s arm until it nearly popped out of its socket. Lance was forced over, onto his stomach, as Lotor pinned his arm back. This time, he _did_ shut his eyes, trying to ground himself.

            “I think I know _exactly_ why you were nervous that day, besides the fact that you didn’t want to screw up _again._ ”

            _Don_ _’t let him get to you._

            It was Keith’s voice in Lance’s head, a lighthouse beacon cutting across stormy ocean.

            “You were afraid of what I’d do to your fellow Paladins,” Lotor taunted, lips close to Lance’s ear. “Especially the _Red_ Paladin. This whole time, you had me right in the palm of your hand.”

            Lotor stood up, keeping Lance’s arm pinned where it was with his foot. He used his other foot to steady himself as he drew the sword from its sheath. The blood-coated blade came down hardly a hair’s breadth from Lance’s face. Lance stared at the metal, and saw his own tired, terrified reflection staring back at him between spots of red.

            “You had me believe that you were falling for _me._ You had me believe that you were Jeremy Ortega, and you _despised_ Ryou Takashi. You took him to me and I could have _sworn_ there was nothing but contempt…but I see _now_ that I had things the other way around. You look at the Red Paladin the way you _pretended_ to look at me. I’m hurt, truly,” Lotor said.

            Lance’s heart pounded against his ribcage, so hard that Lance might have thought it was trying to break free.

            “How?” Lance whispered against the floor.

            He couldn’t deny it.

            Lotor sounded so sure of himself, more sure than he’d sounded of anything else that he’d said the entire time Lance had spent with him. But he’d been alone with Keith when they’d confessed to each other…

            _Quiznak._

            Lance’s blood turned cold as he remembered the communicator cuffs, and the fact that Lotor had both earpieces. Lance and Keith had never turned their cuffs off, and Lotor had heard every last bit of Keith’s confession. Of Lance’s confession. Of their promises not to let the other die.

            “The communicators, of course,” Lotor confirmed. “It seems that neither of you remembered to turn them off. Of course, between all the confusion and commotion going on during that…well, I _would_ call it an escape attempt, if your little farce hadn’t been so _awful._ Between everything happening there, and your desperate need to get each other to safety, it seems that simple matter of turning the cuffs off slipped your minds.”

            Lance rested his forehead against the ground.

            This was real. This was happening.

            “Where’s Keith?” he whispered, fighting to keep his voice steady.

            “I have unfinished business with him,” Lotor said.

            He drew the blade up and brought the tip of it back down, resting against Lance’s neck. Lance squeezed his eyes tighter, curled his hands into fists. Tried to brace himself for what was coming.

            “It would be so easy to kill you right here,” Lotor said.

            The blade pressed down harder—not enough to break skin.

            Not yet.

            “Your crimes could be considered treason. Blatant sabotage of _my_ Empire. Conspiracy. And so many personal offenses. And why _should_ I let you live? Do you even _have_ anything to go back to?”

            Lotor went silent; Lance didn’t expect a pause. A space for him to answer.

            _Don_ _’t let him get to you._

            “Yes,” Lance whispered.

            His family, waiting for him back in Cuba. Back on Earth. The other Paladins—they would come and rescue him, too, wouldn’t they?

            And Keith.

            Keith was waiting for him.

            Once this whole war was over, they could explore things. Go deeper. Allow themselves to _enjoy_ whatever was happening between them. Lance’s feelings were only recent, but he knew deep down that Keith’s had been around longer—he’d just been too busy with other issues to see them. And now they were out there.

            They had a chance.

            Lance wasn’t about to throw it away.

            “Hmm,” Lotor said, displeasure dripping in his voice. “I’m sure you do. I’m also sure that you will _never_ see those things again. I won’t kill you, _Lance._ Not physically. But you won’t be leaving this ship. You won’t be leaving _my side._ Your Lion is ours. Its quintessence, and by extension, _your_ quintessence, belongs to Galra. And speaking of Galra…there’s a Paladin I must return to. Haggar tells me I’m not allowed to kill him yet. We will see how long that lasts.”

            Lotor nicked the back of Lance’s neck, just to make a point, and then stood up and started toward the door, to leave Lance completely alone yet again.

            “You won’t,” Lance mumbled.

            Lotor paused, one foot already out the now-open door.

            “Excuse me?” Lotor asked.

            Lance dragged himself up, up to his knees, just so he could look Lotor in the eye. “If you kill Keith…I will become your waking nightmare. If you kill him, you’ll regret it. Every minute for the rest of your short life.”

            Lotor’s gaze darkened, as he drew himself back into the room, sword still in hand. “Is that a threat, Blue Paladin? Need I remind you who holds your freedom? Need I remind you that with just one whisper to the druids, you won’t have _any_ control over your situation? Perhaps _I_ won’t kill your _Keith._ Perhaps I’ll have _you_ do it.”

            With that, Lotor stormed out. The door slid shut in his wake, plunging Lance into darkness.

            Lance’s hands trembled first.

            He’d done it. He’d threatened Lotor. In doing so, he’d potentially just sealed his own doom.

            And Keith’s.

            Lance leaned back, until he was off of his knees. His back rested against the bench; he drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, tucking in his chin, putting his head down to block out the little light that was left in the room.

            Lance’s whole body began quaking.

            Cold, fear, hunger, pain, exhaustion—it was all crashing into him at once.

            He wanted to get out of here. Get Keith and blast off. Back to the castle. Back to his room, back to his bed, with warm blankets.

            He wanted to rest.

* * *

           Word of the distraction reached Rivvin about a varga before the whole thing was supposed to go down. It was from the same patrol guard who’d aided him earlier, and he stopped long enough to explain the whole story to him: Lance and Keith had been caught in their escape, the Blue Lion was corrupted, and now the Blue Paladin’s life, as well as the life of Princess Allura, were at stake. Not only that, but the Red Paladin was in bad shape—Lotor seemed to be targeting him. The other Paladins would be sneaking aboard the ship as soon as the distraction took place, and they’d need help getting in and out.

            Rivvin was tasked with finding the bayards and finding the rescuers, and leading them the right way to Lance and Keith.

            The only problem was, he didn’t know where Lance and Keith had been taken. Rivvin had some idea of where the bayards were—probably on display in the training deck, as prize training weapons that one could only use if they’d done particularly well in the day’s training exercises.

            On the upside, at least Rivvin’s guard shift was over for now, now that his “prisoner” was someone else’s problem. That gave him plenty of time to get around the ship and get the bayards, and then find out where the two Paladins had been taken to. As he roamed, he heard whispers from the few other Marmorites he passed, something about explosions and controlling the damage, and how if Lotor was already pissed that he’d been played like a fiddle, well, then he’d be pissed off even more.

            Good. Lotor deserved it.

* * *

 

            Keith discovered that he was good at faking unconsciousness.

            Of course, at first, it hadn’t been an act. Shortly after Lotor and the druids left him, staying awake was just too much, and Keith slipped under the grip of darkness, his injuries overwhelming him. He came to only when Haggar and the druids returned sometime later to heal him—not fully, of course, because the Galra would never bring a prisoner back to full health—and he’d heard Haggar complaining to the others.

            Complaining must have been a Galra thing.

            Or at least, a part-Galra thing.

            Keith hung his head the whole time, keeping his eyes shut, but he was alert enough. Haggar divulged everything—about how Lotor wanted to kill Keith at some point, but he couldn’t quite yet, because Lance would probably just become dangerously reckless. About how Lotor was going to keep Lance here, no matter what happened, and turn him into a weapon. About how Lotor was a moron, and how he was thinking too much of himself, his own feelings, his own impulses, and not enough about the Empire at large.

            He only decided to seem awake when Haggar had been silent for a few minutes. He faked a groan, raised his head, and scanned the room like this was the first time he was waking up, and he was trying to gather his bearings. Haggar ordered the druids to stop when he looked at them, and left the room without a word to Keith. He was left alone with the other druids for only another few minutes. Haggar came back with Lotor in tow, and he looked much angrier than when he’d left.

            “Where had we been?” Lotor snapped. “We know who you are afraid of losing, Red Paladin. Rest assured, he fears losing _you._ And we talked about your weaknesses, and his inferiority complex. Let’s move on to another Paladin, shall we?”

            Just as Lotor started debating with himself whether to ask about the Green or Yellow Paladin, the ship jolted violently. Overhead, the lights began alternating, between red and purple, and a loud alarm began to blare.

            Lotor whirled on Keith, but Keith was just as lost as he was.

            “You had something to do with this, didn’t you?”

            “No,” Keith said. “I don’t—”

            A guard came rushing into the room at that moment, cutting Keith off.

            “Out with it!” Lotor ordered.

            “Your highness,” the guard said, panting to catch their breath, “we’ve got a rebellion on our hands. Several guards have set up an explosion in one of our shuttle bays, and I fear—”

            Another boom rocked the ship.

            Lotor’s eyes burned with fury as he stared down the guard.

            The guard’s eyes were wide with fear as he stared straight at Lotor.

            “—that there may be others.”

            “Lock down this sector,” Lotor ordered. “And get the other prisoner. The Blue Paladin.”

            Keith almost smiled.

            He still hadn’t had the chance to turn his mic off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to put an end note but I didn't know what to say. So now that thought is the end note. Catch ya in the next chapter.


	11. The One in Which Things Get Chaotic

Chapter 11

            Shiro had been waiting in his shuttle for a good ten minutes before the explosions went off, just outside Lotor’s ship’s detection range. As soon as he saw the first one go off, he was in motion, instinct taking over.

            “Pidge, Hunk, move in! Coran, start that tape, and then get Allura!”

            Shiro had opted to fly in solo, his shuttle locked onto Keith and Lance’s energy signatures. He was coming in closer to Keith’s, while Pidge and Hunk had gone for Lance’s. The location of the Blue Lion was lost on them for the moment, and it would be until Allura pulled it up for them, once she was awake. Hopefully, Haggar and Lotor wouldn’t be able to sense her from the distance the castle was keeping from the ship.

            _“Uh, Shiro, you seeing this?”_ Pidge asked.

            Shiro’s eyes flicked to the screen at the side of him, showing Lance’s energy signature moving—toward Keith’s.

            Without being on the castleship, they’d lost Keith and Lance’s communicator feeds.

            _“Either Lance broke out, or they’re moving him. We need to hurry,”_ Hunk said.

            _“They’re moving him all right,”_ Coran confirmed. _“Hunk is right. You need to hurry. They’re locking down the sector. Unfortunately, Lotor_ and _Haggar and the druids are all there!_ _”_

            Shiro’s blood ran cold. “They’re going to try and pit Lance against Keith.”

* * *

            When the guards came for Lance, he had no choice but to follow them. He could feel Haggar’s power brush his mind just once, and then dart away, as though he wouldn’t notice. A warning to him that at any moment, she could reach in and take control, and he would be powerless to stop her.

            He and the guards were in the middle of a corridor when they bumped into another guard, carrying the red and blue bayards. Lance looked up, eyes widening for a fraction of a second before he schooled his face into neutrality. This had been one of Keith’s guards. Rivvin. The one who was with the Blade. The recognition sparked across Rivvin’s face momentarily, before he, too, acted as though he knew nothing. But it was then that Lance knew whatever was happening, the Blade was responsible for it.

            “What are you doing with those?” one of the guards flanking Lance demanded, drawing a blaster on Rivvin.

            “His Royal Highness asked me to deliver them to him,” Rivvin answered without missing a beat. “He forgot to inform me where he wanted me to bring them, and I was not going to just _tell_ him that. I have been looking for guards who might know where these need to be, so I can avoid having to deliver an insult to the Prince himself.”

            The two guards on either side of Lance bought it.

            “Follow us,” Lance’s second guard said. Rivvin nodded and fell into step behind them.

            It was over the moment Lance felt Rivvin press his bayard into his hands.

            Rivvin swung out with Keith’s bayard. It wouldn’t transform for him, but the blunted end was good enough. He took out the guard on Lance’s left, freeing up Lance to slam sideways into the guard at his right, shoving so hard that the guard collided with the wall, head smashing into metal. With both of them down, Rivvin had the few seconds to uncuff Lance’s hands, buying Lance enough time to transform his bayard into his blaster just as another wave of guards started down the hallway.

            Most of them didn’t even have the chance to make it a few feet before they were taken down by blaster fire. Shots in the chest. A couple right in the head. Lance detached himself from it all, firing off a few more shots before turning and sprinting like hell after Rivvin. Rivvin seemed to know where he was going, and stopped outside of a door that was already open.

            Lance was nearly to him when Rivvin was slammed into the wall across the hallway, lighting crackling over him.

            “No!” a horrified yell came from inside the room.

            Keith.

            Lance would just be giving himself away if he entered that room, but more guards would be here at any moment, from either direction of the hallway, and it was either get caught in a firefight with them, or try to rescue Keith. Lance liked the option of rescuing Keith better, and burst into the room. Lotor was too preoccupied covering his ears and yelling something about being insulted to notice Lance enter, and Haggar was too busy yelling at him to stop yelling and start paying attention.

            Lance fired off two shots, freeing both of Keith’s arms in one go.

            Keith practically fell forward. Lance rushed into the room to catch him before he could hurt himself—only for his body to freeze entirely, mid-step.

            It felt as though the curtain had been ripped away. Haggar entered his mind, approached him from behind, pulled him away from the control panel, threw him across the room without an ounce of effort. His feet stopped moving. Keith regained his balance inches from his face hitting the floor, and painfully shoved himself up, trying to work at the restraints around his ankles.

            “Don’t move another inch.”

            Lance was saying the words against his own will. Keith froze, raised his head just the slightest. Enough to look through the hair falling in his eyes and meet gazes with Lance. Not Lance. Haggar controlling Lance’s every whim. His body raised his gun and aimed it right for Keith’s forehead.

            “L-Lance—”

            “Silence!” Lotor roared.

            Lance kept the gun trained on Keith. Keith shut his mouth, eyes wide, the fight gone out of him. Haggar stood ready for orders.

            Lotor ripped the earpiece from his ear and crushed it beneath his foot. He dug around into his pockets and produced the second one, and crushed that one, as well. He turned toward the druids, eyes blazing.

            “Order a transmission to the Castle of Lions,” he said. “ _Immediately._ Before I decide I no longer want to wait to give the kill order.”

            Two of the druids left the room. Lotor had just turned to Keith when blaster fire erupted in the hallway.

            “What now?!” Lotor demanded.

            “Is that Keith’s bayard?”

            “Yeah, and there’s Keith! And Lance!”

            Everyone seemed to quiet down and freeze. Pidge and Hunk looked at each other, and into the room, and then at Lotor and Haggar. Then Lance, with his gun still pointed at Keith’s head, and Keith, hunched over. Hands still hovering over the restraints around his ankles.

            “Huh,” Lotor said.

            His voice was eerily calm, enrapturing most people in the room. Keith. Pidge and Hunk. The remaining druids.

            Haggar.

            Lance slowly made his way toward the control center of his own mind, where Haggar waited, back turned to him.

            “From the incessant buzzing I’ve been hearing for the last _ten dobashes,_ I could have sworn _you two_ were back on the castleship,” Lotor said. “I will admit, I’m _impressed,_ but don’t think too much of it. You’re still too late. Make another move, and I will order the Red Paladin dead.”

            In the plane of his mind, Lance halted, trying his best not to breathe, lest Haggar figure out what he was doing. He needed to win back the controls, and then he needed to put the gun down, before he shot Keith in the head. The way his arms were positioned now, if he shot, he wouldn’t miss. Keith couldn’t move out of the way, and there wouldn’t be time. If Lance shot, it would be goodbye to the Red Paladin.

            “Pidge, Hunk, what’s going o—oh.”

            Shiro’s footfalls slowed to a stop as he appeared in the doorway, the blade of a longsword jutting out from the hilt of his bayard.

            Another distraction. Good.

            “Well, now, isn’t _this_ a party?” Lotor said. He took steps back, toward Keith.

            Lance crept closer to the controls. Just a few more steps, if he could just catch Haggar by surprise…

* * *

            Being woken up with the words “you need to help the Blue Lion and then generate a wormhole as soon as possible” was not what Allura expected when Coran helped her out of a cryopod. He proceeded to hurriedly explain the situation to her—what had happened to Lance and Blue and Keith, and then the rescue mission currently underway.

            “The cryopod’s healed you for a short time, but it won’t be long before the poison starts to take back over,” Coran was still talking as Allura stepped into her post at the bridge, laying her hands on the controls. “We’re also within Haggar’s sphere of influence, and I fear if she gets into your head…it may be over.”

            Allura pursed her lips. She wasn’t listening to Coran anymore—she was trying to listen to the feeds coming in from Pidge, Hunk, and Shiro’s helmets.

            “Shiro, Pidge, Hunk, what’s happening?”

            No response.

            “I’m afraid they’re all in confrontation with Prince Lotor,” Coran answered feebly. “Keith is trapped, and Lance could kill him at any moment. Haggar’s already in his head, from what I’ve been able to gather.”

            The Paladins couldn’t make a move. Keith was cornered. Lance was cornered in his own head—

            “That’s it. Coran, man the ship. If I go down, just keep going.”

            “Princess, what are you doing?” Coran asked.

            Allura narrowed her eyes, hands clutching tighter around the controls at her post. “When we fought Zarkon, I was able to take on Haggar myself. I have capabilities similar to hers. If she can get into Lance’s head…then so can I.”

            Allura shut her eyes and tuned out whatever else Coran had to say to her, reaching out with her magic, trying to find the pull to Lotor’s ship. To Haggar. To Lance. It evaded her at first—a little flash of light, glinting and then disappearing every time she swiped for it. One tick, it was at her left, dangling in the air, and the next, it was near to the ground at her right. Allura stopped reaching, steadied her breathing, waited for the thread of energy to tickle her mind—and then she snatched it, pulling tight with both hands, refusing to let go.

            Her body seemed to tumble out from under her. For a few ticks, there was nothing but bright color, changing faster than she could comprehend, and then she was back on her feet, in a mindscape that wasn’t her own. She wasn’t alone here—Haggar stood at a control panel, undisturbed, seemingly unaware that the Altean princess had entered the room.

            But _Lance_ was aware.

            He turned, eyes wide. His fears echoed in Allura’s mind— _is that another druid? I_ _’m screwed, I’m about to kill Keith, oh, quiznak._ He seemed to relax once he saw her, although his eyebrows knitted in confusion. Then determination. He brought a finger to his lips, and nodded toward Haggar.

            _Don_ _’t let her know._

            “Don’t let her know _what_?”

            Haggar turned around, hand shooting out, lighting arcing from her fingertips and heading right for Lance, only to be met halfway with bolts from Allura. Haggar scowled, throwing out a second hand to try and combat Allura’s lightning. Lance looked between them. With Haggar’s focus on fighting Allura, he could get to the controls. He sprinted across his own mindscape, willing himself to move faster.

            “Lance, look out!”

* * *

            Lance was down.

            He twitched on the ground, bayard clutched tightly in his trembling hands, back in its normal form—no longer his rifle. Haggar had her eyes shut and was concentrating intensely, lightning crackling around her fingertips. Everything in Keith ached to run to him, and if Lotor wasn’t holding him back—one hand by the hair, the other one holding a blade to his throat—Keith would’ve. Instead, he was resigned to leaning back against the slab where he’d been for at least a varga.

            “A shame,” Lotor said, putting pressure on the blade. Keith felt the metal bite flesh, threatening to spill blood. “I was really hoping that he would be awake for this, but as usual…my druids cannot properly do their jobs. And now, instead of _him_ killing the Red Paladin, in what I believe would have been the _ultimate irony_ _…_ that messy responsibility now falls to me.”

            Lotor rolled his shoulders, and Keith shut his eyes.

            “Why?” Shiro interrupted.

            Lotor gave Shiro a blank look. “What you’re doing, Black Paladin, is called _stalling_ , and I’m afraid I’m quite familiar with it. Druids, hold the remaining Paladins back. You’ll be allowed to kill them when I’m finished with Keith—”

            “Wait, please,” Shiro said.

            “Druids, please, if you’d be so kind—”

            “I know you’ve wanted to fight me in the arena for a long time,” Shiro said, as the druids began converging on him, Pidge, and Hunk. “Your father never let you. This is your chance. Right now. Let the three of us go and fight me in the arena. If I win, we get back Lance and Keith and the Blue Lion and are free to go, and we can pick up this battle somewhere else. If you win, you get Lance and Keith and can do whatever you want.”

            Keith’s eyes snapped open.

            “Shiro, no!”

            “You aren’t your father, Lotor,” Shiro went on, ignoring Keith. “This is your chance to run the Empire your way, and get what you’ve been wanting. Fight me.”

            Lotor held the blade still at Keith’s neck, easing up on the pressure just the slightest. Keith eyed the blade. His hands were free, but his ankles were still locked in place, and his injuries had only piled up. Any more intensive exertion would likely send Keith back into unconsciousness.

            “I have a better deal,” Lotor said, and finally pulled back the blade, twirling it with one hand. He stood up, dragging Keith along with him. “If _you_ win the fight, Champion, you can have _one_ Paladin back—this one, right here. I keep the Blue Lion and the Blue Paladin. Their quintessence already belongs to Galra…and despite his…. _recent shortcomings_ _…_ I feel the Blue Paladin is still very charming.”

            “Shut the fuck up,” Keith snapped.

            Lotor looked at Keith, eyebrows raised, and without a second thought, whirled on him, slashing him across the stomach. Keith cried out, falling back against the slab as Lotor let go of his hair.

            “If _I_ win, not only do I keep the Blue Paladin and the Blue Lion, but I keep the Red Paladin as well…and I’ll decide what to do with him from there. He’d be interesting to keep around, but that temper…mmm, and his mouth. It _will_ be a struggle each day _not_ to kill him…,” Lotor said.

            Keith shook his head, trying to stand back up on weak legs, one hand around his bleeding wound. “Shiro, no. I won’t leave without Lance. You can’t do this.”

            “Really now?” Lotor said, tilting his head in mock surprise. “You’d throw away your one chance for freedom? For _that?_ ” Lotor gestured to the twitching mess that was Lance.

            “Any day,” Keith answered, unflinching, gaze steely.

* * *

            Lance was running out of time. Shiro needed to make a decision before Lotor decided to kill Keith, or Lance needed to get back on his feet and shoot the Prince before he could kill Keith. Either way, someone needed to do _something._ He stood up on shaking legs, trying to make his way to the control panel while Allura dueled Haggar behind him. He couldn’t take another hit of lightning. If he did, he’d give out completely, and be totally at the mercy of either Haggar or Allura—whoever came out on top.

            _Almost_ _…there…_

            With a final, dragging step, Lance stood in front of the control panel, flashing buttons and levers in front of him. An ease settled over him, like projecting onto a mental plane and taking over this control panel he’d never seen before in his life was the easiest thing in the world, something he’d done a thousand times. Maybe subconsciously, he had.

            He was apparently on the ground, shivering, bayard in its deactivated form.

            Lance had an idea.

* * *

            Pidge ducked behind Hunk and Shiro, so quickly that Lotor never even noticed, as he was too busy mocking Keith. Guards had ceased moving through this hallway; with the abundance of druids here, and Lotor locking the place down, there must have been no need for them. Especially since Lotor hadn’t known the rest of Team Voltron was boarding the ship as he ordered the lockdown. With the way clear, and Hunk and Shiro providing cover, Pidge crossed the hallway.

            The smart thing to do would have been to take the bayard and just keep going, and look past the everything else for the sake of getting everyone out of here. But Pidge couldn’t; not with Keith’s bayard still clutched in Rivvin’s limp hand. Half of Pidge had expected him to get up when she gently pried his fingers away and took up Keith’s bayard, but the other half of her knew with brutal clarity that he would not move. Never again.

            Whatever he’d been hit with was enough to kill him. From the marks across his flesh, Pidge guessed it was druid lightning. Rivvin had gone to aid Keith, and this was what he’d gotten for it.

            His death wouldn’t be in vain.

            Pidge rejoined Hunk and Shiro, pulling up short as she saw what had developed in the minute or two she’d had her back turned. Lance stood back on two feet, blaster yet again aimed at Keith. Lotor, too, had a blade pointed toward him, prepared to drive it through his neck. Keith seemed to be almost unaware that Lotor was even beside him. His eyes were stuck on Lance, shining with a vulnerability Pidge had never, _ever_ seen him display.

            “You can’t do this,” Shiro started. He took a step forward. Lotor brought the tip of his blade closer to Keith’s neck, nicking him, drawing blood. Keith flinched, Shiro flinched.

            “Didn’t you hear the Red Paladin?” Lotor asked. “He refuses to leave without his dear lover. So I think I’ll have to turn down this whole fight. So, now, if I could get back to business…Blue Paladin. Kill him.”

* * *

            Clear eyes met Keith’s gaze.

            It wasn’t Haggar, with her face scrunched in pain, oblivious to the order Lotor had given. It wasn’t any of the druids who stood around the room. The eyes that met him belonged to no one but Lance. Keith forced himself to stiffen anyway, and to act surprised when Lance took the shot.

            Lotor hardly had time to move out of the way. A shot that should’ve gone between the eyes grazed the side of his head as he dove to the floor, letting go of Keith. Lance shot twice more, freeing Keith’s ankles, before he spun on the druids. They were still pulling themselves out of their shock when he opened fire. Hunk did the same, bayard transforming into his massive blaster. Keith moved through the melee on unsteady feet, exhaustion threatening to bring him down.

            “Keith, get down!”

            He didn’t know who called the order. He dropped without a second thought, knees hitting the ground clumsily, a shock running through him. Jagged lightning streaked overhead. Seconds later, blaster fire, and a druid not five feet away from Keith dropped dead. Within seconds, someone was on top of him, trying to pull him up and get him out of the room.

            “Come on, Keith, stay with me. Pidge! Get us out of here!”

            “On it!”

            Someone pressed something into Keith’s hand. He looked down at his red bayard, deactivated. The same red bayard Rivvin had been holding when he was killed.

            “Keith, pick up your feet—”

            “Shiro, for the love of Voltron, just _carry him!_ We don’t have time!”

            There was a groan, and then suddenly, Keith was being lifted over Shiro’s shoulder. He clutched tight to his deactivated bayard, doing his best not to drop it.

            “Can you cover us? I can’t fight like this!”

            “Keep moving and don’t worry about it!”

            Every step Shiro took jolted Keith. He struggled to hold onto reality, as pain washed over him in waves, the cut in his stomach still bleeding, his other cuts threatening to reopen, thanks to the weak healing the druids had given him. The lack of sleep was fogging his mind, too, and he decided that once he was back on the castleship, he was taking a long nap. He could deal with the rest of his problems when he woke up.

            “Shiro, we’re losing him!”

            “Just get us to the shuttle!”

            Shuttle. Leaving. Shiro was carrying him, and Pidge was behind them…

            “Hunk and Lance,” Keith murmured.

            “They’re coming,” Pidge reassured Keith with a quick glance over her shoulder.

            Keith had to take her word for it; he didn’t have the energy to raise his head and look.

* * *

            The moment Haggar fell back screaming, slamming into a wall as if thrown by some invisible force, Lotor knew the connection had snapped. Lance looked around wildly, eyes alight with pride. He had his mind back.

            Rage, white-hot and blinding, consumed Lotor. The Blue Paladin had deceived him, entered his ship, entered his empire, entered his _heart_ —however briefly that embarrassing stint lasted—and now had escaped the clutches of the most powerful druid Lotor knew of. He’d freed the Red Paladin. He’d given the others a chance to escape. He’d tried to _kill him._

            By the time Lotor was through with him, the Blue Paladin would _wish_ he was dead.

            Haggar had failed. The druids had failed. Lotor should have seen it coming. They’d all worked for his _father,_ the same person who’d failed to bring down Voltron before. He shouldn’t have relied on them. Shouldn’t have let them have as much power in this plan. He refused to fail because _they_ couldn’t do their jobs properly.

            The Blue Paladin had his back turned. Lotor picked up his sword, and got to his feet, and rushed the Blue Paladin, blade thrust forward.

            Just as the Blue Paladin started sprinting, out of the room, dodging druid lightning. Lotor screeched to a halt just before he could get caught in the crossfire, giving the Blue Paladin and the Yellow Paladin the space they needed to leave.

            “Attention all personnel,” Lotor said, bringing his own communicator to his lips. “The Paladins of Voltron are attempting to make an escape. Kill them on sight. Leave the Blue One alive.”

            The announcement rang out overhead, through the ship alarm system.

            Lotor swung his gaze to the druids. “Get to the bay holding the Blue Lion. Make sure no one gets away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, thank you SO MUCH for the feedback so far. I think I've cried at least three times going through the comments. You all are just so LOVELY and you make my day. Thank you <3


	12. The One in Which Some Things Come Together and Others Fall Apart

Chapter 12

            Lance’s legs were on fire.

            The adrenaline rocketing through his veins was the only thing keeping him moving as he and Hunk made their break for the Blue Lion’s launch bay. Haggar was out of his mind and down for the time being. As soon as she was gone, Allura had set to work on trying to restore health to the connection between her, Lance, and Blue—Lance could still feel her at his back, still present in his mindscape. A calming presence and a ward against Haggar, whenever she got back into the fight.

            “I don’t know how much longer I can keep running!” Lance called to Hunk.

            They turned down another hallway, Hunk instantly dragging Lance back. Blaster fire erupted, striking the wall, missing them by inches. Lance leaned against the wall, panting. Hunk peered around the corner once more, turning over the blaster in his hands.

            “I’m gonna cut us down a path. Will you be able to follow?” Hunk asked.

            Lance sucked in a shaking breath. “I’m gonna have to.”

            “This’ll be just like sneaking around at the Garrison, buddy,” Hunk murmured. “Just with blasters and yelling.”

            Lance nodded absently. “Yeah, right. Instead of avoiding Iverson, we’re just avoiding imminent doom.”

            “I don’t see much of a difference in those two scenarios,” Hunk said.

            Lance looked up, cracking a half-smile.

            Hunk smiled back at him, and then returned his focus to the task at hand. Lance pushed away from the wall, preparing himself to run again.

            “Ready?” Hunk asked.

            “Let’s do it,” Lance answered.

            Hunk charged, gun blazing, and Lance followed, trying his best to contribute, although most of his focus was on keeping his legs going and eyes open. Every inch of him sang with pain. Once they got back to the Castle of Lions, Lance was going for a cryopod. He could deal with his problems whenever he came back out.

            “We’re getting close to the hangar,” Lance said. “Keep going, and then take the first left that comes up!”

            “Got it!” Hunk replied.

            Hunk continued to mow down the guards and sentries that came at them, while Lance blasted at the few stragglers that Hunk missed. They swung left, Hunk grabbing Lance by the arm to steady him.

            “Dude, are you sure you can do this?”

            “Positive,” Lance answered.

            The hallway they charged down was empty. Lance continually looked over his shoulder, making sure no one was tailing them, when he tripped over his own feet. He fell, gun clattering to the ground as he dropped it in an effort to catch himself.

            Hunk was upon him in seconds.

            “That’s it. I’m carrying you the rest of the way.”

            Lance scooped up his blaster just as Hunk picked up Lance and tossed him over his shoulder, carrying him with one hand, despite Lance’s protesting. They didn’t get very far; the door at the end of the hall was shut, the print-pad completely shut off—the lockdown apparently included Blue’s hangar.

            “Pidge,” Hunk said, into his comm, “the door to Blue’s hangar is sealed, and sentries or guards will be here any minute. Is there any way you can execute a system override from where you are?”

            _“I can’t!”_ Pidge shouted, cutting herself off with a cry of pain. _“Our bay is shut, too! Shiro’s trying to bust the door open with his bayard, and we’re taking on an ambush! You’re gonna have to blast open that door and get Lance out of here!”_

            “What about Keith?” Lance asked.

            Hunk set Lance down and aimed at the door with his blaster. “Shiro has him, and we’ve gotta trust that those three know what they’re doing. Stand back.”

            “I’ll watch the other end of the hall,” Lance said.

            He stood behind Hunk, his own gun at the ready, while Hunk started firing away at the door.

* * *

            Pidge started to think that maybe she should’ve been the one to run off with Lance, and Hunk could have accompanied Shiro and Keith. Keith had passed out at some point when they were running, leaving him vulnerable and unable to fight back. Shiro was the only one of them strong enough to carry Keith _and_ run—or so he claimed, as he wouldn’t even give Pidge the chance to _try._ That left only Pidge to defend them, and her weapon was not nearly as widely ranged as it needed to be.

            Not only that, but Shiro and Keith both fought with _swords._

            “Hurry up, Shiro!” Pidge called, deflecting another blaster bolt with her shield. “I can’t cover you forever!”

            “Got it!”

            Pidge risked a glance behind her to see Shiro kicking in a large circle he’d cut out of the door. Shiro went in first, pulling Keith in after him. Pidge backed toward the door, another shot clanging off of her shield. As soon as her ankle hit the bottom of the door, Shiro’s arm wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her in.

            And then they were sprinting, headed for the shuttle.

            “Hunk, status?” Pidge asked.

            _“Door isn’t giving way, but we’re alone for now.”_

            _“Don’t speak too soon!”_

            Pidge caught Lance’s voice in the background, as a fresh round of blaster fire started up.

            _“Where are_ you _, Pidge?_ _”_ Hunk asked, voice tight.

            “Shuttle bay,” Pidge answered. “Being pursued, but the door is still open. We’re free to launch. Shiro can take Keith back to the castle. I’ll come get you and Lance.”

            Pidge looked back over her shoulder. Robotic sentries and guards were trying to spill in through the door, but they were clogging themselves in the hole. They couldn’t open the door—the lockdown was still in effect. Lotor hadn’t raised it, and whoever was in command probably didn’t think that a Voltron Paladin would find a way to get through the door.

            “Shiro, did you catch what I just told Hunk?” she asked, returning her attention forward.

            Shiro nodded as he opened up his shuttle and settled Keith into his passenger seat. “If Lotor finds out that Blue is getting away, he’ll send ships, and he’ll try to control her. You’ll probably need to provide covering fire.”

            “Oh, joy,” Pidge muttered, heading for her own shuttle.

            _“Door is open! Approaching Blue!”_ Hunk announced as Pidge jumped into her pilot’s chair.

            “I’m coming,” Pidge said.

            She shut the shuttle. Ahead of her, Shiro and Keith were already heading out. She tailed them, breaking off as soon as she was out of the bay and into open air. The other hangar was close by, and it took hardly any time at all for Pidge to fly in. The shuttle had barely landed when Pidge opened it back up and jumped out, running for Hunk and Lance.

            They stood in front of Blue, as Blue’s jaw lowered to the ground to let them in.

            “How’s Blue responding for him?” Pidge asked.

            “Allura is in his head. Apparently. Trying to heal whatever Haggar did to them,” Hunk answered.

            Pidge smacked her forehead. “Of course! Some days I forget that Haggar is Altean, and Allura can pull off a lot of what she can.”

            “Hopefully, Allura did enough to let us get back to the castle without getting caught…again,” Hunk said.

            By now, the ramp into Blue was down. Hunk ushered Lance on first, and Pidge took up a position to cover them—even though the doorway, like it had been back at the shuttle bay, was clogged with sentries and officers all trying at once to squeeze their way through the damaged doors.

            As soon as the ramp into Blue’s cockpit started to shut, Pidge headed back for her shuttle, jumping in just as the first few sentries finally broke free of the group.

            “How are things in there, guys?” Pidge asked, starting up her engine.

            _“I feel like I’m gonna pass out, but we’re good to go otherwise,”_ Lance answered.

            “Shiro, Keith?” Pidge tried.

            _“Beeline for the castle. Ships are starting to come in. We’re gonna need cover—I can’t fight them off forever.”_

            “Didn’t I say the same thing to you when you were taking too long to get the hangar door open?” Pidge asked.

            _“Just get out of there as soon as you can!”_

 _“Blue’s responding. We’re leaving now,”_ Lance announced. _“We’ll try and give you cover.”_

            “And I’m covering you guys,” Pidge said.

            _“Cover worm!”_ Hunk interjected.

            _“You still remember the worm?”_ Lance asked.

            _“Uh, duh?”_

            Pidge dragged a hand down her face as her shuttle took to the air, following the Blue Lion. The hits she took were few, and not heavy enough to do too much damage—the blasters the sentries were firing would may have killed her if she’d taken the hits to her suit, but not to the shuttle.

            The fighter ships were another matter.

            Too many of them were trying to flank Shiro and Keith’s shuttle, and if they went down, Keith would die. He didn’t have his suit with him—no mask, no way for him to breathe if the windows shattered.

            “Coran,” Pidge said, “we need the ship! We need covering fire!”

* * *

            Lotor stormed the halls of his ship, Haggar trailing him, recovered from whatever had hurt her—she didn’t say, only concentrated harder. Reports were pouring into his ear at once from various officers aboard the ship, but they all said the same thing: all five Paladins were _alive_ , and all five of them had made an escape, and were now being pursued by fighter ships. Fighter ships that would never be able to bring all of them down, not even the two dinky shuttles the Paladins had escaped in.

            “Haggar,” Lotor said, “Get the Blue Lion back here.”

            He kept moving, toward the hangar, sword already drawn. He would kill whichever Paladins were on board with Lance, and then would kill whoever came to rescue him. And then, maybe he’d kill Lance, too. No matter how _charming_ the Blue Paladin seemed, with eyes that held the sky, and the endearing nervousness, and the—

            “Your Highness.”

            Haggar was not following.

            Lotor turned, expecting to see _triumph_ in her face, expecting to hear that the Blue Lion was easily ensnared once more, that it was returning to the hangar, but instead, she was wringing her hands. Lotor had never seen her this… _meek_. _Afraid_ of speaking. He crossed the distance between them quickly, leveling his sword inches from her throat.

            “Out with it,” he growled.

            “The Altean Princess managed to get into the Blue Paladin’s mindscape,” Haggar explained, voice hollow. “She’s severed my connection. She’s restored the Lion’s quintessence.”

            Lotor froze.

            His plan. The beautiful, perfect plan. The plan that Haggar had told him would _work,_ the plan that was supposed to bring Voltron to its knees. Bring Voltron to _him._ His plan had fallen apart, his Paladin had gotten away, _all five_ Paladins had gotten away, none of them dead, and because of _what?_

            Because Haggar couldn’t fight his ex?

            “How is this possible?” Lotor asked, voice dangerously close to wavering.

            _Wavering?_ _His_ voice? Oh no. That wasn’t possible. Lotor’s voice never _wavered._

            “…She has powers rivaling my own. She discovered them in the battle that doomed your father.”

            _This_ was news to Lotor.

            “And how did I never know of these powers before?” Lotor demanded.

            Haggar drew back, lightning crackling, swirling around her hands.

            “The druids and I all agreed that her powers would die down or go away. That it was a side-effect from being in close range, fighting us. We thought perhaps she absorbed everything I threw at her, and that it would all dissipate.”

            “ _Clearly_ , that did not happen,” Lotor said. “How long have you known she was in the Blue Paladin’s mindscape, destroying everything we’ve worked for?”

            Haggar didn’t answer. Lotor had half a mind to thrust the blade forward and end her life, but he and she both knew that the blade, in this moment, was all for show. This was a screw-up, and a setback, and she would be punished for this. But death? That would be going too far. Haggar had still proved herself too valuable an asset for Lotor to toss away over _this_.

            No matter how major _this_ was.

            “Answer me,” Lotor ordered.

            “Since before you ordered the Red Paladin dead.”

            “ _What?_ ”

            That explained why the Blue Paladin had turned at the last second, had fired off a shot meant to _kill Lotor,_ and not the Red Paladin next to him. It made much more sense than his other theories, like that the Blue Paladin’s muscles had locked up, and twitched at precisely the _wrong_ moment.

            _“Your Highness,”_ Lotor heard the comm come through his earpiece, _“I’ve unfortunate news. The Paladins have made a full escape. They’ve taken a wormhole. Unfortunately, none of our fighters were able to follow and obtain their location.”_

            Whatever Lotor had felt before had not been rage.

            _This_ was rage.

* * *

            The castleship was quiet, with half of the crew resting in the cryopods. Everyone had gathered in the med bay as soon as they’d arrived back. After being in Lance’s head so long, severing the connection Haggar had established, and then generating a wormhole to jump Team Voltron away from Lotor’s ship, Allura had collapsed. Keith had already been passed out since before he was off of the ship, and Lance had finally given out when he’d been stumbling his way toward the shuttle bay.

            “They’re all expected to make a full recovery,” Coran said softly, to the three Paladins sitting on the ground in the center of the med bay. Hunk acknowledged his words with a nod toward him, before returning his gaze back to Lance’s crypod. Shiro and Pidge said nothing, too exhausted, too preoccupied.

            Shiro dropped his head into his hands, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. This was his fault. No matter what argument the others made, no matter what other explanations they came up with, he was their team leader. He was the one who’d told Lance to go through with this ridiculous plan. He was the one who’d backed down and allowed Keith to go with him. And then they’d been on that ship for the rescue, and Lotor and Haggar had been right there, and he hadn’t killed them. Hadn’t given an order to kill.

            Lance had tried.

            Shiro raised his head long enough to stare at Lance’s pod. He still hadn’t apologized like he wanted to. Lance had gone through with the mission like a _champion,_ taking whatever Lotor threw at him for the sake of the team. He could have stopped. He could have asked for the extraction Shiro had offered. And yet, he’d declined. He’d been taken hostage in his own mind, and still fought back. Freed Keith.

            “How long are they supposed to be in the pods, Coran?” Hunk called out.

            Coran twirled one end of his mustache, looking wistfully between Lance, Keith, and Allura. “Allura should be out within the day. Lance…probably out by tomorrow or the next day. Keith…it will be a few days with him. He sustained the most injuries in his time on Lotor’s ship, and whatever the druids did to heal him…wasn’t much. They did the bare minimum to keep him alive. If we’d waited any longer to get them out…well, be glad we got them out when we did.”

            _You mean if the rescue failed, just like the first one,_ Shiro thought to himself.

            Just another place he’d failed. Going into the first rescue operation, they knew what the Galra were planning, and they knew how fast the Galra worked. Instead of sending in someone to help, some _backup,_ they’d placed the responsibility solely on Lance and Keith to get themselves out, without another plan in case something went wrong.

            “I’m going to get some rest,” Shiro announced, standing up.

            “Oh, good,” Coran said. “I think you need it, Shiro.”

            Shiro nodded, and headed for the doors. “Call me if anything happens.”

* * *

            The Blade of Marmora was responsible for the explosions. Fifteen of them had been among Lotor’s guards. One had been killed by druid lightning right before the melee with the Paladins. Seven others were executed at Lotor’s hand in the arena. Lotor had to admit, as he ran a finger over his blood-slick blade, that he had never seen so much fanfare for something that was not a fight. The guards had been lined up, all on their knees, hands tied behind their backs. Lotor had not blindfolded them.

            He wanted to see the light leave their eyes.

            _Shiro,_ he’d thought as he slit the throat of the first one.

            _Hunk_ , he named the second one, as their head rolled.

            _Pidge,_ he dubbed the smallest of the guards.

            _Coran._ More blood. A singular, guttural cry.

            _Allura_. Lotor ended this one quickly.

            _Keith._ This one he drew out, one of the two Marmorites responsible for organizing the rebellion.

            _Lance._ This was the one who’d gotten into contact with the leader of the Blade of Marmora, who’d run around the ship spreading the word. Who’d explained to the others over secret comms how to rig up the bombs. How to get out before they went off, so they wouldn’t be like another of their fallen.

            All of them dead at his feet.

            Lotor turned to the crowd, raising his arms in triumph, light glinting off of his blade as red ran down, over the steel, over the hilt, onto his hand, down his arm. The crowd roared for him. He’d successfully executed seven traitors. An eighth was dead thanks to one of his druids.

            “The other seven _will be found!_ ” Lotor shouted, earning more applause, more whooping and yelling. “I will find them! I will _bring them to justice!_ Vrepit Sa!”

            The echoed “Vrepit Sa” by the crowd was deafening.

            Lotor wouldn’t announce now his plans for the future. _Those_ would no longer work for him. They’d need a complete overhaul, a total redesign. Lotor had not accounted for the power Princess Allura possessed. Had not accounted for Haggar keeping important things like _that_ from him. Had not accounted for the conflicting feelings he had for the Blue Paladin. Had not accounted for him and the Red Paladin to _love_ each other—or something like _love,_ anyway. And the Green Paladin, crafty with his little gadgets—the communicator cuffs and earpieces had been a nasty shock that Lotor still could not get over.

            _How_ had he never noticed them, until it was almost too late?

            Lotor hid his scowl behind a dazzling smile toward the crowd. He dropped his arms, rolled his shoulders, straightened his back, and walked out of the arena with his head high. Even for his loss of the Paladins, _this,_ right here, could be considered a victory. Half— _more than half_ , actually—of the rebels on his ship had been found and taken out. It would only be a matter of time before the druids would find the other seven of them.

            Lotor ordered every single guard on the ship to be interrogated, minds thoroughly searched by the druids. And as hesitant as he was about it, Lotor had sent Haggar in to do the interrogating. Sure, she’d kept the secret about Princess Allura from him, _and_ had managed to lose her grasp on the Blue Paladin and the Blue Lion, _and_ had failed to do anything truly useful in that final fight—

            But she was still his strongest asset.

            She’d been able to help his father weed out traitors before, and Lotor had just come _much_ closer than his father ever had to getting Voltron. Really, she had no reason to turn around and betray him.

            Not like the Blue Paladin had.

            The halls Lotor entered were empty as he headed back to his chambers. The few guards he passed either saluted him or cowered away from him, afraid that even though they might have been loyal, Lotor would mistake them for one of the seven rebels still unaccounted for.

            Good.

            Let them be afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this, there's maybe one more chapter. Or an epilogue. Or something. Not quite sure yet. Debating on whether or not to write a sequel. Anyone have thoughts on this?


	13. The One in Which Lance and Keith Can Finally Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It only took 13 chapters, but we finally have an actual title!

Chapter 13

            The very first time Lance had ever been in a cryopod aboard the ship, no one had been there to catch him and steady him when he came out of it. The couple other times, it had usually been whoever was standing closest, most often caught unawares, scrambling to help him before he could hurt himself. So Lance was very surprised when he felt himself falling forward out of the cryopod, not shaking off the sleepiness fast enough, and someone caught him. Not by surprise. Not caught off-guard. Someone who had been ready.

            It was Hunk.

            “Lance!” Hunk exclaimed, and once he was sure that Lance was awake, turned the catch into a crushing hug that Lance returned without hesitation—well, as much as he could manage, anyway. Hunk’s hug had Lance’s arms pinned, but Lance was sure that Hunk could feel the love and appreciation in the smile he pressed against his chest.

            Hunk set Lance down only after Lance started struggling to breathe.

            Lance looked around at everyone else in the room—Shiro, Pidge, Allura, and Coran. He turned around, looking at the one other pod standing in the room. Keith was still in it, looking more at peace than Lance had seen him in the last couple days. No more worrying about each other. No more near-death experiences. Just healing and rest.

            “Lance.”

            Lance turned around. Shiro had taken a step forward. His arms were crossed, shoulders hunched.

            “Uh, yeah?”

            “Can we talk?”

            Shiro finally brought his eyes up to look at Lance. Lance scratched the back of his neck, looking toward Hunk and Pidge, both of whom shrugged.

            “Sure?” Lance said.

            Shiro motioned for Lance to follow him out of the room. Lance glanced back once at Keith’s pod, but Hunk gave him a gesture that told him, _I_ _’ll come get you if anything happens._ Lance gave him a tentative thumb’s-up and a half-smile, and then followed Shiro. The doors to the med bay shut as Lance left.

            “What’s this about?” Lance called after Shiro, who was at least ten steps ahead of him. “If this is about the mission, then yeah, I already know things went wrong back there—”

            “No, no,” Shiro said. He turned around, waving one hand as though to clear away the thought, and went on, “Lance, I wanted to tell you that…I’m sorry. For everything.”

            Lance raised his eyebrows. “Everything? What—?”

            “I haven’t been treating you as well as I should have been,” Shiro said. “I didn’t realize I was doing it until you were talking to Lotor, and he mentioned how the Blue Paladin has always been underappreciated. I didn’t realize it affected you until you turned your mic off on the rest of us. Even so, that’s no excuse. I’m sorry, Lance. You’re a valued member of this team, and without this mission, we’d be clueless as to the Empire’s next move. Now, we even know how Lotor operates, because of you.”

            Lance’s mind took a moment to process everything, which was kind of difficult to do with his heart hammering against his chest.  Shiro blurred in front of him. Momentarily, Lance wondered if he’d actually left the pod, or if he was just dreaming, but when the tears slid down his cheeks, he realized that no, this was real.

            His hero.

            His hero was praising _him._

            Before Lance knew what was happening, Shiro caught him in a hug—nowhere near as crushing as the one Hunk had delivered, but tight enough that Lance could not just simply slip away. Not like he wanted to, anyway. It had to have been at least five minutes, the time he and Shiro stood there, before Coran sprinted by, calling for Allura.

            Shiro broke the hug. He was prepared to sling an arm around Lance and lead him back into the med bay, but Lance shook his head, hugging himself tightly.

            “I-I’m gonna go get my jacket. Or something. I’ll be back soon.”

* * *

             _Two planets in a quintent._

            _Eight members of the Blade of Marmora._

_Several wrongly accused guards._

            Information was coming into the castle at alarming rates. Allura hustled out of the med bay, ahead of Coran. She ran into Shiro in the hallway and didn’t breathe a word to him, merely grabbing his arm and yanking him along. He easily fell into step beside her, and her hand dropped from his arm and into his hand.

            “Allura, what’s going on?”

            “Lotor’s snapped.”

            The door to the bridge was already open, as Coran had left it. Sure enough, there were transmissions from various planets, and from some of the members of the Blade who’d gotten into contact with Kolivan, who’d relayed the message to the Castle of Lions as soon as possible. The transmissions filled up the windows of the bridge, and Allura scanned each one as quickly as possible.

            One planet had been completely taken over, while another was decimated, more than half of its citizens killed, the others taken captive or hiding out in the rubble. A short time after Lance and Keith’s rescue, seven members of the Blade of Marmora were executed in the arena, with an eighth having been killed off during the operation. Seven others were being hunted down, and so far, four had been mistaken as Blade members, and had been wrongfully executed.

            Three more planets now stood as possible targets for destruction, and more and more members of the Blade of Marmora, hiding out on other Galra ships, were being uncovered by suddenly-paranoid commanders and other high-ranking officers.

            “It’s barely been two days,” Shiro whispered in awe, face pale as he took in the mounds of information before them.

            “Members of the Blade of Marmora aboard his ship noted that he hasn’t exactly gotten over Haggar not telling him about Allura’s power,” Coran explained, stepping up on the other side of Allura. “And then there is the matter of Lance. It’s just as Allura said earlier: he has formed an unhealthy obsession with him, and his betrayal has struck a deep nerve.”

            “This is a callout to Voltron,” Allura said, voice hard. “He’s baiting us.”

            “We’ve gotta do _something,_ ” Shiro started, and backed away, prepared to gather up the other Paladins in the med bay when Allura grabbed his arm, keeping him in place.

            “They need rest, as much as I hate to say it,” Allura said. “Keith hasn’t even left his cryopod yet. The three of us will be monitoring this for the time being. Coran, I need to get into contact with Kolivan as soon as possible.”

            “I’m staying with you,” Shiro said.

            Allura nodded absently, fingers flying over the holoscreen in front of her. “Good. It’ll help to have one of the Paladins here.”

* * *

            Lance took his time changing out of the suit he’d worn in the cryopod and into his own clothes. He didn’t have any scars to show for his time aboard Lotor’s ship—not physical ones, anyway. Everything with him had been internal. Haggar in his mind. His lack of sleep. Constantly worrying that Lotor would figure out his charade. And of course, having to deal with Lotor nearly every waking minute he’d been on that ship.

            Lance shrugged on his jacket and headed back out into the castle. The halls were silent, and in these halls, Lance could let his guard drop.

            His feet carried him back to the med bay. Hunk and Pidge were still there, but Shiro, Allura, and Coran were gone, probably dealing with some business on the bridge. Coran _had_ looked frazzled when he’d run by him and Shiro, but if the issue didn’t concern him, then Lance had no reason to wonder. He had other business to attend to.

            He stopped in front of Keith’s cryopod and crossed his arms, pulling his jacket tighter around him. It was a wonder, how the cryopods could bring someone from the brink of near-death, but couldn’t always fix scars. Lance noted the one across the bridge of Keith’s nose, and two more—one in each palm of Keith’s hand. There were probably others that were covered up by the suit Keith was wearing, and Lance’s stomach rolled at the thought that he didn’t even know the exact number.

            He didn’t know how many injuries Keith had sustained while he played the role of a defiant prisoner.

            “He’s not expected to be out for another day or two,” Pidge remarked, coming up beside Lance. Her voice held none of its usual matter-of-factness, no snark. “He’s gonna be okay though, Lance.”

            Lance’s jaw tightened. All he could manage was a nod while he put an arm around Pidge and drew her in closer to him. Hunk came up behind them, and wrapped one arm around each of them.

            “It’s over for now, guys,” he said. “We’re all here. We’re all safe.”

* * *

            If he had not called off the fight in the arena that night, this would never have been an issue. The Red Paladin would have really been dead, the Blue Paladin would have been caught before he tried to escape, and Lotor could have focused on other things. Like making sure the other three Paladins of Voltron never boarded his ship. He could have even made sure that the Blue Paladin never left his side. Made sure that no one was able to get to him.

            There were many things Lotor could have done differently, too many ideas coming in too late.

            Seven Blade members still running around his ship.

            Four loyal guards _dead_ because the druids couldn’t properly interrogate someone.

            Five Paladins and two royals still out there, still trying to destroy him.

            Several rebel groups, all trying to destroy him.

            So many people trying to destroy him.

            What a shame, that he had to take preemptive measures, and destroy them first.

            The last planet they’d taken over reaped many benefits: new resources. A new military base. Its citizens appeared to have been _bred_ for fighting. All of them strong. Large-limbed. Arena fights over the last half-quintent had gotten more interesting, the crowds more energetic than ever before. Lotor wondered if the news had reached Team Voltron yet, if they knew the chaos their strikes created.

            Would they be willing to listen _now?_

            Lotor slouched in his seat high above the currently-empty arena. Blood still dried on the ground, on the walls, on the columns that could never seem to fall down. In the stillness and silence, Lotor allowed his imagination to run wild. What would it be like to see each member of Team Voltron down there, fighting against each other?

            …Well, all but one. The Blue Paladin would have the luxury of watching the fight from Lotor’s side.

            Lotor tried to envision it. He imagined Allura’s guardian, Coran, wouldn’t last very long. Neither would the Red Paladin—he’d gone down so quickly before. It would only be a matter of time before the small one, the Green Paladin, was picked off. And against two tanks, like the Black Paladin and Yellow Paladin, well…Princess Allura hardly stood a chance, unless she unleashed her power on them.

            What a fight that would be.

            Those were the questions Lotor should have been asking the Blue Paladin as he played the role of Jeremy Ortega. Which Paladin would win in the arena? Which would go down first?

            Despite whatever conceptions the Blue Paladin had, Lotor was not completely out of it. He would know _something_ was up if he said the Champion would go down first, or that the little Green Paladin would be the new victor.

            _“Your Highness.”_

            Lotor scowled as his earpiece crackled to life, interrupting his train of thought.

            “What?” he demanded.

            _“There’s a fight breaking out in the cell block. Do you wish us to contain it?”_

            “Interrogate anyone involved,” Lotor answered. “Find out what they know about nearby planets, what they’ve heard of Voltron. Anything and everything that might be useful to the triumph of the Empire, I want it found.”

            _“Yes, Your Highness.”_

* * *

            The moment Keith’s cryopod opened, Lance was ready. He caught Keith as he tumbled forward, and just as Hunk had done for him, Lance turned Keith’s catch into a hug—nowhere near as crushing as the ones Hunk could manage, but crushing all the same. Keith stiffened momentarily, before he realized that it was just Lance. Keith gripped Lance’s arms and drew back, to look Lance in the eye.

            “D-Did we escape?”

            His words were a whisper, and his eyes darted around the room, trying to assess the situation. Lance remembered then that Keith hadn’t been conscious when they got off of Lotor’s ship; somewhere between leaving the interrogation room and getting back to the Castle of Lions, Keith had passed out.

            “Yeah, we did,” Lance answered.

            Keith’s face broke out into a watery grin, and he buried his face in Lance’s chest, grip on Lance tightening. Lance tightened _his_ grip when he felt Keith start shaking. He glanced over his shoulder, at Hunk and Pidge, who stood in the background, unsure of what to do. He nodded toward the door, with a look that said, _now might be a good time to leave._ Pidge got the message first, and tugged on Hunk’s shoulder. A look of realization came over his face, and he nodded vigorously, and the two of them left on silent feet.

            Lance guided Keith down to the floor. He didn’t let go of Keith for a long time, until he felt the shaking subside, and Keith started to pull away, furiously dragging a white sleeve across his face.

            “You didn’t see any of that,” Keith muttered.

            “O-Of course,” Lance said quickly, as Keith moved aside, putting distance between the two of them. “Uh, Keith…I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Like, since we were in the cell? And…we both said…some _things_ _…_ ”

            Keith looked away from Lance, around the rest of the med bay, anywhere _but_ his friend’s face.

            “I didn’t think you could hear me, all right?” Keith whispered. “A-And we were both delirious. And exhausted. And—”

            “Keith, I meant what I said,” Lance interrupted.

            Keith stilled.

            “That wasn’t me mocking you, or me being so out of it that I just said _whatever._ I meant it,” Lance went on. “And yeah, I know, those weren’t exactly the best circumstances for either of us to admit anything, but it’s out here now. I-I don’t want to ignore it, or pretend it never happened.”

            Keith still didn’t reply. Lance looked sideways at him.

            “Keith?”

            Did Keith not mean it? Had he just said something to make Lance feel better, in case they _didn_ _’t_ make it out? He had to have meant it, right? Why would Keith have _lied_ in that moment?

            “I’m not gonna push the matter. Not now,” Lance said, standing up. “When you’re ready, though, can you _please_ talk to me?”

            Lance was almost to the door when Keith called out for him: “Wait, Lance—”

            Lance turned around. Keith was on his feet now, one arm rubbing the other. Lance tried to ignore the scar on the back of Keith’s hand, as the realization hit him that Keith had taken a knife all the way through his hand.

            “I’m not trying to avoid anything, I’m just…I’m still processing,” Keith said. “It’s still new. I _really_ didn’t think you could hear me, and I thought there was even less of a chance that you…”

            “It’s all right,” Lance said. “We just went through hell. You need time. I just want you to know, I _also_ heard everything back in the interrogation room. W-When you said you’d give up freedom for me.”

            Keith’s face flushed. “I-I…can we just…can I go get changed?”

            “Right, yeah,” Lance said, and stepped aside. Keith walked quickly by Lance, out of the med bay. Lance watched him go, and once Keith was out of sight, Lance headed out, too. Instead of tailing Keith, Lance went for his own room.

            He’d give Keith the space he needed, hoping that Keith would seek him out when he was ready.

* * *

            So many scars.

            More than Keith had estimated.

            He saw his hands first, the scars on his palms and on the backs of them, from where Lotor had stabbed him with the knife. When he peeled off his suit, there was the scar in his leg, where he’d taken the sword. On his side, a thin scar, where his opponent in the arena had sliced him. There were a couple others here and there, but the one that stuck out to him the most, and would always stick out to him the most, was the one across his nose. He touched that one gingerly, feeling the uneven line of his skin.

            All it did was make him look more like one of Shiro’s relatives.

            Keith’s gut twisted. The last he’d seen Shiro, Shiro had picked him up and been racing as fast as he could to get Keith off of Lotor’s ship, before unconsciousness had claimed him. He hadn’t been in the med bay when Keith woke up—neither had Allura or Coran. Keith had at least briefly seen Hunk and Pidge, but the others? Nowhere to be found.

            Keith went to put on his jacket. When he opened it up, his knife tumbled out, onto the ground. Keith took it up, reflection in the blade staring back at him. He looked exhausted, even after having been in the cryopod for what had to have been several days.

            Keith shoved the knife into the sheath on his belt, pulled on his jacket, and headed out the door. Shiro, Allura, and Coran were probably busy manning the ship, so Keith started in the direction of the bridge. It didn’t take him long to get there. When the doors opened for him, he caught sight of Allura, Shiro, and Coran, all gathered in front of the main window, in the middle of a transmission with Kolivan.

            Kolivan did not look the slightest bit pleased.

            Before anyone could realize Keith was there, he ducked back into the hallway, pressed against the wall.

            _“—act quickly, before we lose any more members. After all, it was_ your _operation that set off this chain of events._ _”_

            “We didn’t know that anything like this would happen,” Shiro said. “We saw an opportunity to see how the Galra Empire operated under Lotor, and to gather intelligence on what their next moves were. As far as I’m concerned, we were successful in that aspect. Yes, I’ll agree, this is an unforeseen consequence, but we didn’t go in there looking to provoke him.”

            _“You speak too lightly of this situation. The Blade of Marmora has successfully run secret operations and coordinated attacks against the Galra for a long time. Never have we lost so many members in just a matter of quintents.”_

            _Lost so many members?_

            Just what was going on with the Blade? And Lotor?

            Did the others know?

            Keith hurried away. Hurried all the way to Lance’s room. He knocked on the door once, fingers barely brushing metal for the second tap when it opened. Lance stood in the doorway, eyes wide. He looked Keith up and down, took in the expression on his face.

            “What’s up?” Lance asked.

            Keith walked into the room—Lance stepped aside to give him the room.

            “Do you know what’s been happening lately with the Blade of Marmora?” Keith asked before he could stop himself.

            Lance raised his eyebrows. “Something’s happening with the Blade of Marmora?”

            “So that’s a no,” Keith muttered.

            “Can I have some context, please?” Lance asked.

            Keith sat down on the edge of Lance’s bed, and Lance sat down next to him, eyes shining with something like worry.

            “I went looking for Shiro, and I found him on the bridge with Allura and Coran,” Keith started.

            Lance nodded. “Yeah, the other day Coran was looking for Allura, and Shiro went with him. He seemed kinda panicked.”

            “They were in the middle of a transmission with Kolivan. He didn’t sound happy. Something about the Blade losing a ton of members in the last few days. Shiro said something about provoking Lotor,” Keith explained.

            Lance’s face seemed to drain of color. His gaze went distant, heart thudding harder in his chest. Keith’s face fell. He looked Lance up and down, and hesitantly put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in closer to him. Lance didn’t protest, didn’t act surprised—just leaned into Keith’s warmth.

            “Whatever you’re thinking, none of this is your fault,” Keith said.

            “Y-Yeah, I know,” Lance said.

            “I don’t know all the details,” Keith said quickly, noting the faraway look on Lance’s face. “Maybe this isn’t as bad as we think. If it was really bad, then Shiro and Allura would’ve told us already. I probably just came into the room at a bad time.”

            Lance just nodded, before his head landed on Keith’s shoulder. Keith stiffened just the slightest as he looked at Lance, his words and actions aboard Lotor’s ship all flooding back to him at once. Every minute that he wasn’t worried about getting killed or getting rest so he could avoid getting killed, _Lance_ had occupied his thoughts. And then he’d confessed. And then confirmed his feelings right in front of Lotor. But was Lance _sure_ he felt the same way? He wasn’t just trying to make Keith feel better?

            “Hey…is now a bad time to talk? About us?” Keith asked quietly.

            “No,” Lance replied. “A-Am I—”

            Lance started to lift his head, scoot away from Keith, but Keith shook his head.

            “You’re fine, Lance, I just…I like you. And care about you. A lot. I mean, I think that part should be pretty clear, but…a-are you sure? That you feel the same way?”

            “You don’t believe me?” Lance asked.

            Keith didn’t answer, dropping his gaze to the floor.

            “Keith,” Lance said, “I wouldn’t have said that if I didn’t mean it. The whole time we were there, I was _worried_ about you. It wasn’t the kind of worry I feel for everyone else every time we go out on a mission. This was different. It was deeper.”

            Lance reached out and cupped the side of Keith’s face. Keith looked up at Lance through the hair falling into his eyes, face turning deep red.

            “I’m nervous too,” Lance said. “And I know we’re fighting a war. But I’m willing to commit if you are.”

            “I just…I don’t want to go too fast. I just want to let it happen,” Keith said.

            Lance couldn’t help himself.

            He broke out into a fit of giggles, drawing back from Keith, hunching in on himself, trying to smother his laughter.

            “What?” Keith asked.

            “I’m sorry,” Lance said, “but _you?_ Going _slow?_ The first time we met, like really _met_ , you drove us off a cliff on a speeder!”

            The redness on Keith’s face only made Lance laugh harder.

            “Lance—”

            “Sorry, sorry, it’s just—it’s cute.”

            Keith pulled the collar of his jacket around his face. “I’m not _cute._ ”

            Lance smirked. “Then would you prefer _adorable?_ ”

            “I’m going to kill you.”

            Lance’s smirk shifted into a smile as he stood up. “Well, then, I guess I’ll go before you can do that—”

            “Lance, this is your—”

            “Gotta go, Keith!”

            Keith raced after Lance as Lance bolted out the door. Lance may have had the longer legs, but Keith was the quicker sprinter, and within a few minutes of speeding down the halls of the castle, Keith caught up to Lance and grabbed him by the arm, spinning him around so that they were facing each other, bringing them both to a halt.

            Maybe an inch of space existed between them as they panted, breathing the same air.

            “You’re fast,” Lance whispered. “But I did hear you. I’ll take this as slow as you want.”

            Keith smiled. “Thank you.”

            His gaze shifted for a moment, from Lance’s eyes to his lips, and then back up.

            “Can we…?”

            Lance answered the question by closing the distance between them.


	14. Epilogue

Epilogue

            Lotor spent his waking vargas in meeting after meeting with other high-ranking officials aboard his ship. The discussions dragged, over which planet to invade next (did it _matter,_ if Lotor planned on invading them all?), which fleet to send out to get the job done (“Whichever one does the most damage in the least time, obviously?” Lotor had said), and what the next course of action was in order to get at Voltron (this was his favorite question).

            Even just standing up in front of the other officers made a few of them cower away from them. Late into the night before, Lotor had been in the arena, in the prison fights, just to make a point to the crowds about who their leader was. He’d fight back, even if it meant being on the battlefield himself, instead of having someone else do all of the dirty work. That was where his father made a mistake. What was the fun in conquering planets and building an empire if one couldn’t partake in the festivities?

            He’d neglected to change out of his bloodied gear, and had spent the entire night awake on the training deck afterward. He’d plowed through meeting after meeting, never once slipping, never once finding himself spaced out. Each time his bloodshot eyes landed on an individual officer, they’d look away.

            “Why go after Voltron?”

            He splayed his hands on the table in front of him, eyes sweeping over every official at this meeting. They glanced amongst themselves, confused—why _wouldn_ _’t_ they go after Voltron?—but not one of them voiced an opinion.

            “That’s the mistake my father made,” Lotor said, hands leaving the table. His back straightened, and he began to pace, fully aware of every eye in the room watching him. “Time and time again, my father would continuously put his main resources into finding Voltron and the Black Lion. His takeovers of other planets were mediocre at best, and sympathetic allies were eager to aid Voltron. But consider this: we leave Voltron alone. Completely. We act like Team Voltron does not exist.”

            Lotor swept his eyes around the room again. His officials murmured amongst themselves, wondering how a course of action like _that_ could be helpful in any way. And _still,_ not a _single one_ of them raised a hand, raised a voice, asked a question. Not out loud to _him,_ at least.

            “We focus,” Lotor said, bringing the room back into silence, save for the sound of his own voice, “on conquest. Put all of our resources into taking over whole planets. We bring in new resources, new soldiers, new sources of entertainment, new military bases—we _flourish_ as an empire. The more focus we put on conquest, the faster it goes, as the military is built up. The more fire we put in, the faster things get done, and we move in. We jump from planet to planet, and soon, we are on five different planets. And what is poor Team Voltron to do? How can they possibly aid five planets at once? The people lose their faith in Voltron, and put their faith into _us._ ”

            More murmurs, and still no questions.

            Lotor slammed his hands on the table. A few of the officers closest to him jumped.

            “And what does this do for us, you all ask each other? It cuts off Team Voltron from gathering any resources of their own, and destroys their chances at making any allies. Their credibility as the supposed _Defenders of the Universe_ is undermined, and any allies they have will see that they cannot stand against us. They’re fighting a _lost cause._ There will be only one move Team Voltron can make. How do you kill an operation like our own? You see, this is where my father was, dare I even _say it,_ thinking clearly. You cut off the problem at the head.”

            Lotor straightened himself out slowly, looking around at the group of officials in front of them, at the looks of realization dawning on a few purple faces.

            “As we go on, taking planets for our own, Team Voltron will realize the only way to shut this down is to kill my father for good, kill Haggar, and _kill me._ They’ll come right for Central Command, just as they’d done before. Under my father’s messy leadership, they managed to get away.  However, if _we_ set a large enough trap, they’ll waltz right in. And then they’ll die.”

**_End of Part I_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that there's a ton I could do with a sequel...so if it wasn't clear by that first statement, YEAH THERE'S GONNA BE A SEQUEL. I don't know if it's gonna be my next work, though, because I did have /another/ idea for a fanfic, so like...I don't know which one I'm going to act on. I could try and write them both at once, but I don't want to confuse the two, and also, whenever I try and write two fanfics at once...I usually end up getting drained and never finishing either one. But like...YEAH, SEQUEL IS HAPPENING. That's really the only point of this paragraph.


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